Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless* butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept
like two children, in their death's sad stor
O thus quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,-
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms;
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each oth
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my
But, O, the Devil-there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on,-we smother'd
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd
Hence both are gone with conscience and re
They could not speak; and so I left them bot
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

EXPEDITION.

Come,-I have learn'd, that fearful comme Is leaden servitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggar
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!

QUEEN MARGARET'S EXPROBATION.

I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my fortu I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted quee The presentation of but what I was,

The flattering indext of a direful pageant, One hear'd a high to be hurl'd down below: A mother only mold with two fair babes; A dream of w

ast; a garisht flag,
ngerous shot;
a bubble,
I the scene.

y placed at the be
Flaring

And I with tears do wash the blood away.
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this:
And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right,
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears;
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears;
And say,-Alas, it was a piteous deed!

ACT II.

THE DUKE OF YORK IN BATTLE.

Methought, he bore him* in the thickest troop, As doth a lion in a herd of neat;t

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 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 be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run:
How many make the hour full complete,
How many hours bring about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I tend my flock;

* 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.

So many hours must I take my rest;
So many hours must I contemplate;
So many hours must I sport myself;

So many days my ewes have been with young;
So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean;
So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece:
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Pass'd over to the end they were created,

Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroidered canopy
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?
O, yes it doth: a thousand fold it doth.

And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,

His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,

When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.

. ACT III.

NO STABILITY IN A MOB.

Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust;
Such is the likeness of you common men.

A SIMILE ON AMBITIOUS THOUGHTS.

Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty; Like one that stands upon a promontory, And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; And chides the sea that sanders him from thence, Saying-he'll lade it dry to have his way.

GLOSTER'S DEFORMITY.

Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: And, for I should not deal in her soft laws She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; . To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body; To shape my legs of an unequal size; To disproportion me in every part, Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear whelp, That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd?

GLOSTER'S DISSIMULATION.

Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,

And frame my face to all occasions.

I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily then Ulysses could
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy;
I can add colours to the chameleon;
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school,
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?

ACT IV.

HENRY VI. ON HIS OWN LENITY.

I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears: I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd.