Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

DESCRIPTION OF THE DUKE OF YORK'S

DEATH.

He smil❜d me in the face, raught* me his hand, And, with a feeble gripe, says,-Dear my lord, Commend my service to my sovereign.

So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd

Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not'so much of man in me,

But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

ACT V.

THE MISERIES OF WAR.

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleached,-
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas
The darnal, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon; while that the coulterf rusts,
That should deracinate‡ such savagery:
The even mead, that erst brought-sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.

And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness.

* Reached.

† Ploughshare.

To deracinate is to force up the roots..

GLORY is like a circle in the water,

Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,
Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought

ACT V.

MARRIAGE.

Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.*

For what is wedlock forced, but a hell,
An age of discord and continual strife?
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss,
And is a pattern of celestial peace.

A RESOLVED AND AMBITIOUS WOMAN.

FOLLOW I must, I cannot go before,
While Gloster bears this base and humble mind
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,
And smooth my way upon their headless necks:
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in fortune's pageant.

*By the discretional agency of another

ACT II.

GOD'S GOODNESS EVER TO BE REMEMBERED.

Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,

But still remember what the Lord hath done.

THE DUCHESS OF GLOSTER'S REMONSTRANCE TO HER HUSBAND WHEN DOING PENANCE.

For, whilst I think I am thy married wife,
And, thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks, I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame,* with papers on my back;
And followed with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-felt† groans.
Th
athless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.

ACT III.

SILENT RESENTMENT DEEPEST.

Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; And in his simple show he harbours treason.

A GUILTY COUNTENANCE.

Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.

DESCRIPTION OF A MURDERED PERSON.

See, how the blood is settled in his face! Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,‡ Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again.

* Wrapped up in disgrace; alluding to the sheet of penance

† Deep-fetched.

A body become inanimate in the common course of nature; to which violence has not brought a timeless end

But, see, his face is black, and full of blood;
His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man: [gling;
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with strug
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd.
Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking:
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be, but he was murder'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable.

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.

curse

A plague upon them! Wherefore should I them? Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave: My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words: Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint: My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract: Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: And even now my burden'd heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! Their sweetest shade, a grove of cyprus trees! Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks! Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings! Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss; And boding screech-owls make the concert full! All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell.

Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,

Though standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow.

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,
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thec.
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,

So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And where thou art not, desolation.

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 plea ant 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?
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.