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Bell. If you do hate, you could not curse me The gods have not a punishment in store (worse.

In the last scene of Philaster, the supposed youth, Bellario, Greater for me than is your hate.

is obliged to confess her sex, and accounts thus for her

assumed disguise.
Phil. Fie, fie ! so young and so dissembling.
Tell me when and where * * * *

Phil. But, Bellario,
Or plagues fall on me if I destroy thee not ! (For I must call thee still so) tell me why

Bell. Heav'n knows I never did ; and when I lie Thou didst conceal thy sex? It was a fault-
To save my life, may I live long and loathed ! A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds
Hew me asunder; and, whilst I can think, Of truth outweigh’d it. All these jealousies
I'll love those pieces you have cut away

Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discover'd Better than those that grow, and kiss those limbs What now we know. Because you made them so.

Bell. My father oft would speak Phil. Fear'st thou not death? Can boys contemn

Your worth and virtue ; and as I did grow Bell. Oh, what boy is he

[that? More and more apprehensive, I did thirst Can be content to live to be a man,

To see the man so praised ; but yet all this That sees the best of men thus passionate,

Was but a maiden longing, to be lost Thus without reason ?

As soon as found, till, sitting at my window, Phil. Oh, but thou dost not know

Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, What 'tis to die !

I thought, but it was you, enter our gates ; Bell. Yes, I do know, my lord:

My blood flew out and back again as fast 'Tis less than to be born-a lasting sleep,

As I had puff’d it forth, and suck'd it in A quiet resting from all jealousy,

Like breath; then was I call’d away in haste A thing we all pursue. I know, besides,

To entertain you : never was a man, It is but giving o'er a game that must be lost. Heaved from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, raised Phil. But there are pains, false boy,

So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss For perjured souls. Think but on these, and then Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all. From you for ever. I did hear you talk

Bell. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, Far above singing! After you were gone, If I be perjured, or have ever thought

I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd Of that you charge me with! If I be false,

What stirr'd it so. Alas ! I found it love, Send me to suffer in those punishments

Yet far from lust ; for, could I but have lived You speak of-kill me !

In presence of you, I had had my end. Phil. Oh! what should I do?

For this I did delude my noble father
Why who can but believe him ? he does swear With a feign'd pilgrimage, and dress'd myself
So earnestly, that if it were not true

In habit of a boy; and, for I knew
The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario; My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Thy protestations are so deep, and thou

Of having you ; and understanding well,
Dost look so truly when thou utter'st them,

That when I made discovery of my sex That though I know 'em false as were my hopes,

I could not stay with you, I made a vow, I cannot urge thee farther ; but thou wert By all the most religious things a maid To blame to injure me, for I must love

Could call together, never to be known Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon

Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes Thy tender youth. A love from me to thee For other than I seem'd, that I might ever So firm, whate'er thou dost, it troubles me

Abide with you ; then sat I by the fount That I have call’d the blood out of thy cheeks, Where first you took me up. That did so well become thee; but, good boy, King. Search out a match Let me not see thee more. Something is done Within our kingdom where and when thou wilt, That will distract me, that will make me mad, And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself If I behold thee. If thou tender'st me,

Wilt well deserve him. Let me not see thee.

Bell. Never, sir, will I Bell. I will fly as far

Marry : it is a thing within my vow : As there is morning, ere I give distaste

But if I may have leave to serve the princess, To that most honour'd mind ; but through these To see the virtues of her lord and her, Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see (tears, I shall have hope to live. A world of treason practised upon you,

Arethusa. I, Philaster, And her, and me. Farewell for evermore! Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady, If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead, Dress'd like a page, to serve you ; nor will I And after find me loyal, let there be

Suspect her living here. Come, live with me, A tear shed from you in my memory,

Live free as I do : she that loves my lord,
And I shall rest at peace.

Curst be the wife that hates her !
Phil. Blessing be with thee,
Whatever thou deservest !

FROM THE SCORNFUL LADY, SCENE I, ACT IV.

And give me possets with purging comfits in them? THE RECONCILEMENT OF MR. ROGER, THE

I tell thee, gentlewoman,thou hast been harder to me CURATE, AND ABIGAIL.

Than a long chapter with a pedigree.

Abig. Oh, curate, cure me;

I will love thee better, dearer, longer ! Abig. See how scornfully he passes by me,

I will do anything—betray the secrets With what an equipage canonical,

Of the main household to thy reformation ; į As though he had broken the heart of Bellarmine,

My lady shall look lovingly on thy learning ;

And when due time shall point thee for a parson, Or added something to the singing brethren ;

I will convert thy eggs to penny custards, 'Tis scorn, I know it, and deserve it, Master Roger. Rog. Fair gentlewoman, my name is Roger.

And thy tithe goose shall graze and multiply.

Rog. I am mollified,
Abig. Then, gentle Roger-
Rog. Ungentle Abigail --

As well shall testify this faithful kiss.
Abig. Why, Master Roger, will you set your wit

But have a great care, Mistress Abigail, i To a weak woman's ?

How you depress the spirit any more,

With your rebukes and mocks, for certainly Rog. You are weak, indeed ; For so the poet sings.

The edge of such a folly cuts itself. 11 Abig. I do confess

Abig. Oh, Sir, you've pierced me thorough! Here

A recantation to those malicious faults [I vow My weakness, sweet Sir Roger. Rog. Good, my lady's

I ever did against you. Never more Gentlewoman, or my good lady's gentlewoman,

Will I despise your learning ; never more

Pin cards and cony tails upon your cassock ; (This trope is lost to you now) leave your prating, You have a season of your first mother in you,

Never again reproach your reverend nightcap, And, surely, had the devil been in love,

And call it by the mangy name of murrion ; He had been abused too. Go, Dalilah,

Never your reverend person more, and say You make men fools, and wear fig-breeches.

You look like one of Baal's priests i' the hanging; Abig. Well, well, hard-hearted man, you may

Never again, when you say grace, laugh at you, l'pon the weak infirmities of woman, [dilate

Nor put you out at pray’rs; never cramp you more These are fit texts : but once there was a time

With the great book of Martyrs; nor, when you ride, Would I had never seen those eyes, those eyes,

Get soap and thistles for you—No, my Roger, | Those orient eyes !

These faults shall be corrected and amended, Rog. Ay, they were pearls once with you.

As by the tenor of my tears appears. Abig. Saving your presence, sir, so they are still. 14

Rog. Nay, nay, I do beseech you, leave your What they are, they are

[cogging; JULIO TANTALIZED BY BUSTOPIIA ABOUT THE They serve me without spectacles– I thank 'em.

FATE OF HIS NEPHEW ANTONIO. . Abig. Oh, will you kill me ?

Rog. I do not think I can : 1 You're like a copyhold with nine lives in't.

Jul. My mind's unquiet ; while Antonio Abig. You were wont to wear a Christian fear My nephew's abroad, my heart's not at home ; For your own worship's sake.

[about you,

Only my fears stay with me—bad company, Rog. I was a Christian fool, then.

But I cannot shift 'em off. This hatred Do you remember what a dance you led me,

Betwixt the house of Bellides and us How I grew qualm'd in love, and was a dunce ;

Is not fair war-'tis civil, but uncivil ; Could not expound but once a quarter, and then

We are near neighbours, were of love as near, was out too

Till a cross misconstruction ('twas no more And then, out of the stir you put me in,

In conscience,) put us so far asunder. ! I pray'd for my own royal issue. You do

I would 'twere reconciled ; it has lasted Remember all this.

Too many sunsets : if grace might moderate, Abig. Oh, be as then you were.

Man should not lose so many days of peace 1 Rog. I thank you for it.

To satisfy the anger of one minute. Surely I will be wiser, Abigail,

I could repent it heartily. I sent And, as the Ethnic poet sings,

The knave to attend my Antonio too, I will not lose my oil and labour too.

Yet he returns no comfort to me neither, You're for the worshipful, I take it, Abigail.

Enter BUSTOPHA.
Abig. Oh, take it so, and then I am for thee. Bust. No, I must not.
1
Rog. I like these symptoms well, and this Jul. Ha ! he is come.
humbling also,

Bust. I must not :
They are symptoms of contrition, as a father saith. 'Twill break his heart to hear it.
If I should fall into my fit again,

Jul. How ! there's bad tidings.
Would you not shake me into a quotidian coxcomb, I must obscure and hear it : he'll not tell it
Would
you not use me scurvily again,

For breaking of my heart. It's half split already.

THE MAID OF THE MILL, ACT IV. SCENE II.

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Bust. I havespied him. Now to knock down a don With telling of a tale. Oh, foul tale ! no, be silent, With a liema silly, harmless lie : 'twill be

Furthermore, there is the charge of burial. [tale. Valiantly done, and nobly, perhaps.

Every one will cry blacks, blacks, that had Jul. I cannot hear him now.

But the least finger dipt in his blood, though ten Bust. Oh, the bloody days that we live in! Degrees removed when 'twas done. Moreover, The envious, malicious, deadly days

The surgeons that made an end of him will be paid That we draw breath in.

Sugar-plums and sweet-breads ; yet, say I, Jul. Now I hear too loud.

The man may recover again, and die in his bed. Bust. The children that never shall be born Jul. What motley stuff is this? Sirrah, speak may rue,

What hath befallen my dear Antonio ! (truth, For men that are slain now, might have lived Restrain your pity in concealing it ; To have got children that might have cursed Tell me the danger full. Take off your care Their fathers.

Of my receiving it ; kill me that way, Jul. Ob, my posterity is ruin'd.

I'll forgive my death! What thou keep'st back Bust. On, sweet Antonio !

from truth, Jul. O dear Antonio !

Thou shalt speak in pain : do not look to find Bust. Yet it was nobly done of both parts, A limb in his right place, a bone unbroke, When he and Lisauro met.

Nor so much flesh unbroil'd of all that mountain, Jul. Oh, death has parted them !

As a worm might supon—despatch or be despatch'd. Bust. Welcome, my mortal foe! says one ; Bust. Alas, Sir, I know nothing but that Antonio Welcome,

Is a man of God's making to this hour ;
My deadly enemy! says t'other. Offgo their doublets, 'Tis not two since I left him so.
They in their shirts, and their swords stark naked. Jul. Where didst thou leave him ?
Here lies Antonio–here lies Lisauro.

Bust. In the same clothes he had on when he He comes upon him with an embroccado,

went from you. Then he puts by with a puncta reversa.

Lisauro Jul. Does he live! Recoils me two paces, and some six inches back Bust. I saw him drink. Takes his career, and then-Oh !

Jul. Is he not wounded ? Jul. Oh !

Bust. He may have a cut i' the leg by this time, Bust. Runs Antonio

For Don Martino and he were at whole slashes. Quite through.

Jul. Met he not with Lisauro? Jul. Oh, villain !

Bust. I do not know her. Bust. Quite through, between the arm

Jul. Her ! Lisauro is a man, as he is. And the body, so that he had no hurt at that bout. Bust, I saw ne'er a man like him. Jul. Goodness be praised!

Jul. Didst thou not discourse Bust. But then, at next encounter,

A fight betwixt Antonio and Lisauro ?
He fetches me up Lisauro ; Lisauro

Bust. Ay, to myself :
Makes out a lunge at him, which he thinking I hope a man may give himself the lie
To be a passado, Antonio's foot

If it please him.
Slipping down-oh! down--

Jul. Didst thou lie then ? Jul, Oh, now thou art lost!

Bust. As sure as you live now. Busi. Oh, but the quality of the thing ; both Jul. I live the happier by it. When will he gentlemen,

return? Both Spanish Christians—yet one man to shed Bust. That he sent me to tell you—within these Jul. Say his enemy's blood.

Ten days at farthest. Bust. His hair may come

Jul. Ten days ! he's not wont By divers casualties, though he never go

To be absent two. Into the field with his foe ; but a man

Bust. Nor I think he will not. He said he would To lose nine ounces and two drams of blood

be at home At one wound, thirteen and a scruple at another, To-morrow ; but I love to speak within And to live till he die in cold blood; yet the surgeon My compass. That cured him said, that if pia mater had not Jul. You shall speak within mine, Sir, now. Been perish'd, he had been a lives man

Within there ! take this fellow into custody. Till this day.

Keep him safe, I charge you. [Enter Servants. Jul. There he concludes—he is gone.

Bust. Safe, do you hear ! take notice Bust. But all this is nothing,—now I come to What plight you find me in. If there want but a the point.

Or a steak of me, look to 't.

[collop, Jul. Ay, the point--that's deadly; the ancient Jul. If my nephew blow

Return not in his health to-morrow, thou goest Over the buckler ne'er went half so deep.

To the rack.
Bust. Yet pity bids me keep in my charity ; Bust. Let me go to the manger first,
For me to pull an old man's ears from his head I'd rather eat oats than hay.

FROM THE TRAGEDY OF ROLLO DUKE OF NORMANDY.

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Have I po rule yet? As I live, he dies

That does not execute my will, and suddenly. EDITH PLEADING FOR THE LIFE OF HER

Bald. All thou canst do takes but one short hour
FATHER.
Rollo. Hew off her hands !

[from me. Ham. Lady, hold off.

Edith. No, hew 'em ; Persons of the scene -Rollo, Duke of Normandy ;

Hew off my innocent hands, as he commands you, HANOND, Captain of the Guard; BALDWIN, Tutor of the Prince : EDITH, BALDWIN's Daughter.

They'll hang the faster on for death's convulsion.

[Exit BALDWIN with the guard. Rollo. Go, take this dotard here (pointing to

Thou seed of rocks, will nothing move thee then ? Baldwin), and take his head

Are all my tears lost, all my righteous prayers Off with a sword.

Drown'd in thy drunken wrath ? I stand up thus, Ilam. Your schoolmaster!

Thus boldly, bloody tyrant !

(then, Rollo. Even he.

And to thy face, in heav'n's high name, defy thee ; Bald. For teaching thee no better : 'tis the best

And may sweet mercy, when thy soul sighs for it, Of all thy damned justices. Away !

When under thy black mischiefs thy flesh trembles, Captain, I'll follow.

When neither strength, nor youth, nor friends, Edith. O stay there, Duke,

por gold, And, in the midst of all thy blood and fury,

Can stay one hour; when thy most wretched conHear a poor maid's petition-hear a daughter,

science, The only daughter of a wretched father !

Waked from her dream of death, like fire shall Oh! stay your haste, as I shall need your mercy. melt thee; Rollo. Away with this fond woman !

When all thy mother's tears, thy brother's wounds, Edith. You must hear me,

Thy people's fears and curses, and my loss, If there be any spark of pity in you ;

My aged father's loss, shall stand before thee :If sweet humanity and mercy rule you. I do confess you are a prince-your anger

May then that pity,–

[mercy As great as you, your execution greater.

That comfort thou expect'st from heav'n—that Rollo. Away with him !

Be lock'd up from thee-fly thee! howlings find Edith. Oh, Captain, by thy manhood,

thee! By her soft soul that bare thee—I do confess, Sir, Despair! (Oh my sweet father !) Storms of terror ! Your doom of justice on your foes most righteous. Blood till thou burst again ! Good, noble Prince, look on me.

Rollo, Oh fair, sweet anger !
Rollo. Take her from me.

Edith. A curse upon his life that hinders me !
May father's blessing never fall upon him !
May heav'n ne'er hear his prayers! I beseech you-

INSTALLATION OF THE KING OF THE BEGGARS. O Sir, these tears beseech you—these chaste hands

FROM BEGGARS' BUSH, ACT II, SCEVE 1. woo you, That never yet were heaved but to things holy, Persons.-KING CLAUSE, PRIGG, GINKS, HIGGEN, FERRET,

and other Beggars. Things like yourself. You are a god above us, Be as a god, then, full of saving mercy.

Ferret. What is't I see ? Snap has got it. Mercy! Oh, mercy! Sir-for his sake mercy,

Snap. A good crown, marry. That, when your stout heart weeps, shall give you Prigg. A crown of gold-Here I must grow.

[pity.

Ferret. For our new King-good luck. Rollo. By heaven I'll strike thee, woman !

Ginks. To the common treasury with it--if it be Edith. Most willingly-let all thyanger seize me,

Thither it must.

[gold All the most studied tortures, so this good man,

Prigg. Spoke like a patriot, Ginks. This old man, and this innocent escape thee.

King Clause. I bid God save thee first ; first Rollo. Carry him away, I say.

After this golden token of a crown [Clause, Edith. Now blessing on thee ! Oh, sweet pity,

Where's orator Higgen with his gratulating speech I see it in thine eyes. I charge you, soldiers,

In all our names !

(now, Ev'n by the Prince's power, release my father!

Ferret. Here he is, pumping for it. The Prince is merciful—why do you hold him ?

Ginks. H' has cough'd the second time, 'tis but The Prince forgets his fury-why do you tug And then it comes.

[once more, him!

Ferret. So out with all ! Expect nowHe is old— why do you hurt him? Speak, oh speak, Hig. That thou art chosen, venerable Clause, Sir!

Our king, and sovereign monarch of the maunders, Speak, as you are a man-a man's life hangs, Sir, Thus we throw up our nab-cheats first for joy, A friend's life, and a foster life, upon you.

And then our filches ; last we clap our fambles 'Tis but a word, but mercy--quickly spoke, Sir. Three subject signs- we do it without envy. Oh speak, Prince, speak!

For who is he here, did not wish thee chosen ? Rollo. Will no man here obey me?

Now thou art chosen, ask them-all will say so

THE ROMANS.

FROM THE SAME, SCENE IV. ACT IV.

Nay, swear't-'tis for the King: but let that pass. Look how they hang like falling rocks, as murdering
When last in conference at the bouzing ken“, Death rides in triumph, Drusius, fell Destruction
This other day, we sat about our dead prince, Lashes his fiery horse, and round about him
Of famous memory (rest go with his rags !) His many thousand ways to let out souls.
And that I saw thee at the table's end,

Move me again when they charge, when the mounRise moved, and gravely leaning on one crutch,

tain Lift t'other, like a sceptre, at my head ;

Melts under their hot wheels, and from their axI then presaged thou shortly wouldst be king.

trees And now thou art so—but what need presage Huge claps of thunder plough the ground before To us, that might have read it in thy beard,

Till then I'll dream what Rome was. [them, As well as he that chose thee? By that beard, Thou wert found out and mark'd for sovereignty ! Oh, happy beard ! but happier Prince, whose beard Was so remark’d, as marking out our Prince, BONDUCA ATTACKED IN HER FORTRESS BY Not bating us a hair. Long may it grow, And thick and fair, that who lives under it May live as safe as under beggars' bush, Of which this is the thing, that but the type. Persons -SUETONIL'S, JUNICS, DECIes, and other Romans, Omnes. Excellent, excellent orator! Forward,

BONDUCA and her Dauyhters, with NENNIC's above. good Higgen,

Suet. Bring up the catapults, and shake the wall, Give him leave to spit—the fine, well-spoken We will not be outbraved thus. Higgen!

Nen. Shake the earth, Hig. This is the beard, the bush, or bushy beard, | Ye cannot shake our souls. Bring up your rams, Under whose gold and silver reign 'twas said And with their armed heads make the fort totter, So many ages since, we all should smile.

Ye do but rock us into death. No impositions, taxes, grievances !

Jun. See, sir, Knots in a state, and whips unto a subject, See the Icenian queen in all her glory Lie lurking in this beard, but all kemb’db out. From the strong battlements proudly appearing, If, now, the beard be such, what is the Prince

As if she meant to give us lashes. That owes the beard? A father? no—a grandfather? Dec. Yield, queen. Nay, the great-grandfather of you his people. Bond. I'm unacquainted with that language, He will not force away your hens, your bacon,

Roman. When you have ventured hard for't; nor take from Suet. Yield, honour'd lady,and expect our mercy; The fattest of your puddings. Under him [you We love thy nobleness. Each man shall eat his own stol'n eggs and butter, Bond. I thank ye, ye say well ; In his own shade or sunshine, and enjoy

But mercy and love are sins in Rome and hell. His own dear doll dory, or mort at night

Suet. You cannot 'scape our strength, you must In his own straw, with his own shirt or sheet,

yield, lady ; That he hath filch'd that day-ay, and possess You must adore and fear the power of Rome. What he can purchase-back or belly cheats

Bond. If Rome be earthly, why should any knee To his own prop. He will have no purveyors With bending adoration worship her! For pigs and poultry.

She's vicious, and your partial selves confess Clause. That we must have, my learned orator, Aspires the height of all impiety. It is our will-and every man to keep

Therefore 'tis fitter I should reverence In his own path and circuit.

The thatched houses where the Britons dwell Hig. Do you hear ?

[says. | In careless mirth ; where the bless'd household gods You must hereafter maund on your own pads, he | See nought but chaste and simple purity.

Clause. And what they get there is their own; 'Tis not high power that makes a place divine, To give good words

[besides, Nor that the men from gods derive their line ; Hig. Do you mark, to cut been whids,

But sacred thoughts, in holy bosoms stored, That is the second law.

Make people noble, and the place adored.

Suet. Beat the wall deeper.

Bond. Beat it to the centre,
DISTANT VIEW OF THE ROMAN ARMY

We will not sink one thought.
ENGAGING THE BRITONS.

Suet. I'll make ye.

Bond. No. See that huge battle moving from the mountains, 2nd Daughter. Oh, mother, these are fearful

hours !-speak gently. Their gilt coats shine like dragon scales, their march Like a rough tumbling storm ; see 'em,

< The Roman who makes this speech is supposed to be And then see Rome no more. Say they fail ; look, reclining, overcome with fatigue, and going to snatch a Look where the armed carts stand, a new army! momentary repose.

FROM THE TRAGKDY OF BONDUCA, SCENE V. ACT III.

. Alehouse. Combed.

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