But, see, his face is black, and full of blood; A GOOD CONSCIENCE. What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted. Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. REMORSELESS HATRED. A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them? Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Though standing naked on a mountain top, PARTING LOVERS. 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, Lother 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 PARTING. 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 the 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? ACT IV. NIGHT. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings KENT. Kent, in the commentaries Cesar 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 preferred 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 dev'lish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me. KING HENRY VI. PART III. ACT I. 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. * Pitiful 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; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. THE DUKE OF YORK ON THE GALLANT BEHAVIOUR My sons-God knows what hath bechanced them: Richard cried-Charge! and give no foot of ground With this, we charg'd again; but out, alas! And spend her strength with over-matching waves A FATHER'S PASSION ON THE MURDER OF A FAVOURITE CHILD. O, tyger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. [blood. That face of his the hungry cannibals * i. e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of ou attempt to rally. And I with tears do wash the blood away. ACT II. THE DUKE OF YORK IN BATTLE. Methought, he bore him* in the thickest troop Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; MORNING. See, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!‡ 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, or night. THE BLESSINGS OF A SHEPHERD'S LIFE O God! methinks, it were a happy life, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, * 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. |