« PreviousContinue »
Look, here he comes,
The bird is dead
O sveetest, fairest lily!
Stark,t as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh’d at: his right cheek Reposing on a cushion. Gui.
O'the floor; His arms thus leagu’d: I thought, he slept; and put My clouted broguest from off my feet, whose rudeAnswer'd my steps too loud.
Why, he but sleeps;
With fairest flowers,
Stiff. roes plated with iron. § The red-breast.
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
rotting Together, have one dust; yet reverence, (That angel of the world,) doth make distinction or place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely; And though you took his life, as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince. Gui.
Pray you, fetch him hither,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
Consignş to thee, and come to dust. * Probably a corrupt reading for wither round thy corse.
† Punished. # Judgment.
§ Seal the same contract.
Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
And renowned be thy grave!
Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way? I thank you-By yon bush?--Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins !*-can it be six miles yet? I have gone all night:Faith, I'll lie down and sleep, But, soft! no bedfellow:-0, gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't.--I hope, I dream; For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so; 'Twas but a boltt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes, Are sometimes like our judgments, blind, good faith, I tremble still with fear: but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, sear'd gods, a part of it! The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me; not imagin’d, felt.
A ROUTED ARMY.
No blame be to you, sir; for
all was lost, But that the heavens fought: The king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do’t, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
* This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity.
+ An arrow.
Merely through fear; that the straight pass was
damm’d* With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame.
I, in mine own wo charm’d, Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him where he struck: Being an ugly mone
ster, 'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i’ the war.
IN the most high and palmyt state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star, Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
GHOSTS VANISH AT THE CROWING OF A COCK.
Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing
+ Victorious, * The moon. & Wandering !! Proof.
THE REVERENCE PAID TO CHRISTMAS TIME. It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long;, And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems.
IMMODERATE GRIEF DISCOMMENDED. 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hare