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 SEI

HUSBAND WHEN DOING PENANCE.
For, whilst I think I am thy married wise,
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-feltt groans,
The truthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envious people lauga,
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, I
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 upreard, 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:
Flis 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.

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.

A GOOD CONSCIENCE.

REMORSELESS HATRED.

A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse

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: Aly 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 chicfest prospect, murdering basilisks! Their sostest touch, as smart as lizards' stings! l'heir 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,

SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 145 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. 0, 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 thee. '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. IC I depart from thec, 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? Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no!0! 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.

ACT IV.

NIGHT.

Thc gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful' day Is crept into the bosom of the sea; And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night; Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.

KENT.

Kent, in the commentaries Cesar writ,
Is term’d the civil'st place of all this isle:
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy.

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 gists have I bestow'd on learned clerks,
Because my book preserred 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 CROWS.
Do but think,
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Within whose circuit is Elysium,
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.

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.

TIE DUKE OF YORK ON THE GALLANT BEHAVIOUR

OF HIS SONS.

a

My sons-God knows what hath bechanced them:
But this I know,—they have demeaned themselves
Like men born to renown, by life, or death.
Three times did Richard make a lanc to me;
And thrice cried, -Courage, father! fighl il out.
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchon, painted to the bilt
In blood of those that had encountr'd him:
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried-Charge! and give no fool of ground
And cried,--A Crown, or else a glorious tomb!
A sceplre, or an earthly sepulchre!
With this, we charg'd again; but out, alas!
We bodg’d* again; as I have seen a swan
With bootless labours swim against the tide,
And,spend her strength with over-matching waves
A FATHER'S PASSION ON THE MURDER OF A FAVOURITE

0, 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 bis eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Women are sost, mild, pitiful, and flexible;
Thou stern, obilurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
That face of his the hungry cannibals (blood.
Woull not have touch’d, would not have stain’d with
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,--
V, ten times more,--than tygers of Hyrcania
see, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears:
This cloth thoi dipp’dst in blood of my sweet boy.

* i. e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of our attempt to rally:

CHILD.