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At my sword's point, to have reveng'd my father, To have beaten 'em.-Oh! hold me hard :--but,

uncleCar. Thou shalt live still, I hope, boy. Shall I

draw it? Hengo. You draw away my soul then. I would live A little longer (spare me, heav'n!) but only To thank you for your tender love, good uncle. Good, noble uncle, weep not. Car. Oh!


chicken! My dear boy! what shall I lose?

Hengo. Why, a child, That must have died however, had this 'scap'd me, Fever or famine. I was born to die, sir.

Car. But thus unblown, my boy

Hengo. I go the straighter My journey to the gods. Sure I shall know you When you come, my

Car. Yes, boy.

Hengo. And I hope
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness
You told me of.

Car. Most certain, child.

Hengo. I grow cold; Mine eyes are going.

Car. Lift 'em up.

Hengo. Pray for me.
And, noble uncle, when my bones are ashes,
Think of your little nephew. Mercy !

Car. Mercy! You blessed angels take him.

Hengo. Kiss me! soFarewell! farewell!

[Dies. Car. Farewell the hopes of Britain ! Thou royal graft, farewell for ever! Time and Death, You've done your worst.–Fortune, now see, now

proudly Pluck off thy veil, and view thy triumph. Look, Look what th' hast brought this land to. Oh! fair

How lovely yet thy ruins shew! how sweetly
Ev'n death embraces thee! The peace of heav'n
The fellowship of all good souls be with thee!




Zenocia to Arnoldo.

SHOULD you lay by the least part of that love You've sworn is mine, your youth and faith have

given me, To entertain another, nay, a fairer, And make the case thus desperate, she must die also. D'ye think I would give way, or count this honest ? Be not deceiv'd; these eyes should never see you

more, This tongue forget to name you, and this heart Hate you as if you were born my full antipathy: Empire and more imperious love alone

Rule and admit no rivals. The pure springs,
When they are courted by lascivious land-floods,
Their maiden sweetness and their coolness perish;
And though they purge again to their first beauty,
The sweetness of their taste is clean departed.
I must have all or none; and am not worthy
Longer the noble name of wife, Arnoldo,
Than I can bring a whole heart pure and handsome.



Arn. Fy, stand off ; And give me leave more now than e'er to wonder A building of so goodly a proportion, Outwardly all exact, the frame of heaven, Should hide within so base inhabitants. You are as fair as if the morning bare you, Imagination never made a sweeter


Be excellent in all as you are outward:
The worthy mistress of those many blessings
Heav'n has bestowed, make 'em appear still nobler,
Because they're trusted to a weaker keeper.
Would you have me love you?

Hip. Yes.

Arn. Not for your beauty; ;
Though I confess it blows the first fire in us;
Time as he passes by puts out that sparkle.

Nor for your wealth, although the world kneel to it,
And m it all addition to a woman;
Fortune, that ruins all, make that his conquest.
Be honest and be virtuous, I'll admire you;
At least be wise: and, where you lay these nets,
Ştrew over them a little modesty,
'Twill well become your cause, and catch more fools.
Hip. Could any one, that lov'd this wholesome

But love the giver more ?—You make me fonder,
You have a virtuous mind- I want that ornament.
Is it a sin, I covet to enjoy you?
If you imagine I'm too free a lover,
And act that part belongs to you, I'm silent.
Mine eyes shall speak, my blushes parley with you;
I will not touch your hand but with a tremble
Fitting a vestal nun; not long to kiss you,
But gently as the air, and undiscern'd too,
P'll steal it thus. I'll walk your shadow by you,
So still and silent, that it shall be equal
To put me off as that..


Valentine having formed the noble resolution of giving up his

mistress Cellide to preserve the life of his friend Francis, who, is in love with her, is supposed to hear the following dialogue, unknown to Francis.

Francis. Bless me, what beams
Flew from those angel eyes! Oh, what a misery,


What a most studied torment 'tis to me now
To be an honest man! Dare you sit by me?
Cellide. Yes, and do more than that too-comfort

I see you've need.

Francis. You are a fair physician;
You bring no bitterness, gilt o'er, to gull us,
No danger in your looks ; yet there


death lies! Cellide. I would be sorry, sir, my charity, And my good wishes for your health, should merit So stubborn a construction. Will it please you To taste a little of this cordial ?

[Enter VALENTINE privately. For this I think must cure you.

Francis. Of which, lady. Sure she has found my grief.-Why do you blush so? Cellide. Do you not understand? of this, this

cordial. Valentine. Oh, my afflicted heart! she's gone for

ever Fran. What heaven you have brought me, lady!

Cel. Do not wonder: For 'tis not impudence, nor want of honour, Makes me do this, but love to save your life, sir, Your life, too excellent to lose in wishesLove, virtuous love!

Fran. A virtuous blessing crown you! Oh, goodly sweet! can there be so much charity,

1 Valentine is supposed to remain undiscovered, and his speeches not to be heard by Francis and Cellide.

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