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As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave:
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
And banished I am, if but from thee. Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.O, go not yet!-Even thus two friends condemn'd Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die. Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
DYING WITH THE PERSON BELOVED PREFERABLE TO
If I depart from thee, I cannot live: And in thy sight to die, what were it else, But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe, Dying with mother's dug between its lips.
THE DEATH-BED HORRORS OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE.
Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed? where should he die? Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no? O! torture me no more, I will confess.Alive again? then show me where he is; I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him,He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright, Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea;
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night;
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
Kent, in the commentaries Cæsar writ,
LORD SAY'S APOLOGY FOR HIMSELF.
Justice with favour have I always done; Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. When have I aught exacted at your hands, Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you? Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, Because my book preferr'd me to the king: And-seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven,Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me.
KING HENRY VI.
THE TRANSPORTS OF A CROWN.
Do but think,
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
A HUNGRY LION.
So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws:
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey;
THE DUKE OF YORK ON THE GALLANT BEHAVIOUR OF HIS SONS.
My sons- -God knows, what hath bechanced them:
But this I know,—they have demean'd themselves
With this, we charg'd again; but out, alas!
A FATHER'S PASSION ON THE MURDER OF A
O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide!
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
That face of his the hungry cannibals
* i. e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of our attempt to rally.
Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,—
THE DUKE OF YORK IN BATTLE.
Methought, he bore him* in the thickest troop As doth a lion in a herd of neat;
Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
See, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sunt! How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love!
THE MORNING's dawn.
This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light; What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.
* Demeaned himself. + Neat cattle, cows, oxen, &c. Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when she dismisses him to his diurnal course.