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in their very gesture: they looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: A notable passion of wonder appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if the importance* were joy, or sorrow: but in the extremity of the one, it must ' needs be.


her lip.

What was he, that did make it?-See, my lord, Would you not deem, it breath'd? and that those Did verily bear blood ?

[veins Pol.

Masterly done: The very

life seems warm upon Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in'tt, Ast we are mock'd with art. Still, methinks There is an air comes from her; What fine chisel Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kiss her.

A WIDOW COMPARED TO A TURTLE. I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost.

* The thing imported. tie. Though her eye be fixed, it seems to have motion in it.

* As if.


Historical plays.




Good den*, sir Richard, -God-a-mercy, fellow;
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter:
For new-made honour doth forget men's names;
'Tis too respectivet, and too sociable,
For your conversioni. Now your traveller,
He and his tooth-pick at my worship’s mess;
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd,
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise
My picked man of countriesg: My dear sir,
(Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin),
I shall beseech you~That is question now:
And then comes answer like an ABC-book||:-
O sir, says answer, at your best command;

your employment; at your service, sir :No, sir, says question, I, sweet sir, at yours:

so, ere answer knows what question would, (Saving in dialogue of compliment; * Good evening.

+ Respectable. Change of condition. § My traveled fop. Catechism.



And talking of the Alps, and Apennines,
The Pyrenean, and the river Po),
It draws toward supper in conclusion so.
But this is worshipfiul society,
And fits the mounting spirit, like myself:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation.


ACT II. DESCRIPTION OF ENGLAND. That pale, that white-fac'd shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, And coops

from other lands her islanders, Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, That water-walled bulwark, still secure And confident from foreign purposes, Even till that utmost corner of the west Salute thee for her king.


His marches are expedient* to this town, His forces strong, his soldiers confident. With him along is come the mother-queen, An Atet, stirring him to blood and strife; With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain; With them a bastard of the king deceas'd: And all the unsettled humours of the land, Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,– Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, To make a hazard of new fortunes here. In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,

* Immediate, expeditious. + The Goddess of Revenge.

Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath* in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand.

By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence:
For courage mounteth with occasion.


What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears With this abundance of superfluous breath?

DESCRIPTION OF VICTORY BY THE FRENCH. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in; Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground: Many a widow's husband groveling lies, Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; And victory, with little loss, doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French; Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, To enter conquerors.


Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells; King John, your king and England's doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day! Their armours, that march'd hence so silver bright, Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood;

* Mischief.

There stuck no plume in any English crest,
That is removed by a staff of France;
Our colours do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march'd forth;
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes.


If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? If zealous* love should go in search of virtue, Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? If love ambitious sought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch?


Rounded in the ear With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil; That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith; That daily break-vow; he that wins of all, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids ;Who, having no external thing to lose But the word maid,—cheats the poor maid of that; That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodiCommodity, the bias of the world: [ty7,The world, who of itself is peised well, Made to run even, upon even ground; Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias, This sway of motion, this commodity, Makes it take head from all indifferency, From all direction, purpose, course, intent: And this same bias, &c. * Pious.

+ Conspired. * Interest,

S Poised, balanced.


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