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Be as a god, then, full of saving mercy.
pity. Here I must grow.
Rollo. By heaven I'll strike thee, woman!
Edith. Most willingly-let all thy anger seize me, All the most studied tortures, so this good man, This old man, and this innocent escape thee.
Rollo. Carry him away, I say.
Edith. Now blessing on thee! Oh, sweet pity, I see it in thine eyes. I charge you, soldiers, Ev'n by the Prince's power,
release The Prince is merciful-why do you hold him? The Prince forgets his fury--why do you tug him? He is old—why do you hurt him? Speak, oh speak,
Sir! Speak, as you are a mana man's life hangs, Sir, A friend's life, and a foster life, upon you. 'Tis but a word, but mercy-quickly spoke, Sir. Oh speak, Prince, speak!
Rollo. Will no man here obey me?
Edith. No, hew 'em;
They'll hang the faster on for death's convulsion.
[Exit Baldwin with the guard. Thou seed of rocks, will nothing move thee then ? Are all my tears lost, all my righteous prayers Drown'd in thy drunken wrath? I stand up thus,
then, Thus boldly, bloody tyrant ! And to thy face, in heav'n's high name, defy thee ; And may sweet mercy, when thy soul sighs for it, When under thy black mischiefs thy flesh trembles, When neither strength, nor youth, nor friends, nor
gold, Can stay one hour; when thy most wretched con
science, Waked from her dream of death, like fire shall melt
When all thy mother's tears, thy brother's wounds,
May then that pity,
mercy Be lock'd up from thee-fly thee! howlings find
thee! Despair! (Oh my sweet father!) Storms of terror! Blood till thou burst again! Rollo. Oh fair, sweet anger
INSTALLATION OF THE KING OF THE BEGGARS,
FROM BEGGARS' BUSH, ACT II, SCENE I.
Persons.-- King Clause, Prigg, Ginks, Higgen, Ferret, and other
Ferret. What is't I see? Snap has got it.
gold, Thither it must.
Prigg. Spoke like a patriot, Ginks.
Ferret. Here he is, pumping for it.
once more, And then it comes.
Ferret. So out with all! Expect now. ! Hig. That thou art chosen, venerable Clause, Our king, and sovereign monarch of the maunders, Thus we throw up our nab-cheats first for joy, And then our filches; last we clap our famblesThree subject signs--we do it without envy.
For who is he here, did not wish thee chosen ?
good Higgen Give him leave to spit—the fine, well-spoken Higgen!
Hig. This is the beard, the bush, or bushy beard, Under whose gold and silver reign 'twas said So many ages since, we all should smile, No impositions, taxes, grievances ! Knots in a state, and whips unto a subject, Lie lurking in this beard, but all kemb’d? out.
1 Alehouse.--2 Combed.
If, now, the beard be such, what is the Prince
and butter, In his own shade or sunshine, and enjoy His own dear doll doxy, or mort at night In his own straw, with his own shirt or sheet, That he hath filoh'd that day-ay, and possess What he can purchase-back or belly cheats To his own prop. He will have no purveyors For pigs and poultry.
Clause. That we must have, my learned orator, It is our will--and every man to keep In his own path and circuit.
Hig. Do you hear? You must hereafter maund on your own pads, he
says. Clause. And what they get there is their own;
besides, To give good words
Hig. Do you mark, to cut been whids, That is the second law.