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895 CHARALOIS VIEWING THE FUNERAL PROCESSION
OF HIS FATHER THE MARSHAL OF BURGUNDY
WHOSE DEAD BODY HAD BEEN DENIED BURIAL
BY HIS CREDITORS
OW like a silent stream shaded with night,
and gliding softly with our windy sighs,
moves the whole frame of this solemnity!
stay here awhile.-Rest, rest in peace, dear earth!
thou that brought'st rest to their unthankful lives,
whose cruelty denied thee rest in death!
here stands thy poor executor, thy son,
that makes his life prisoner to bail thy death;
who gladlier puts on this captivity,
than virgins, long in love, their wedding weeds.
Of all that ever thou hast done good to,
these only have good memories; for they
remember best, forget not gratitude.
I thank you for this last and friendly love.
And though this country, like a viperous mother,
not only hath eat up ungratefully
all means of thee, her son, but last thyself,
leaving thy heir so bare and indigent,
he cannot raise thee a poor monument,
such as a flatterer or a usurer hath;
thy worth in every honest breast builds one,
making their friendly hearts thy funeral stone.
rests, and her tired inhabitants have paused
from trouble and turmoil. The widow now
has ceased to weep, and her twin orphans lie
locked in each arm, partakers of her rest.
The man of sorrow has forgot his woes;
the outcast that his head is shelterless,
his griefs unshared. The mother tends no more
her daughter's dying slumbers, but surprised
with heaviness and sunk upon her couch,
dreams of her bridals. E'en the hectic, lulled
on Death's lean arm to rest, in visions wrapped,
crowning with Hope's bland wreath his shuddering
poor victim! smiles. Silence and deep repose
reign o'er the nations; and the warning voice
of Nature utters audibly within
the general moral; tells us, that repose,
deathlike as this, but of far longer span,
is coming on us; that the weary crowds,
who now enjoy a temporary calm,
shall soon taste lasting quiet, wrapped around
OLIVER TO ROSALIND AND CELIA
HEN last the young Orlando parted from you,
he left a promise to return again
within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
lo! what befel! he threw his eye aside,
and, mark, what object did present itself:
under an old oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
and high top bald with dry antiquity,
a wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
lay sleeping on his back: about his neck
a green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
the opening of his mouth; but suddenly
seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
and with indented glides did slip away
into a bush: under which bush's shade
a lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
when that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
the royal disposition of that beast
to prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
this seen, Orlando did approach the man,
and found it was his brother, his elder brother.
898 CARDINAL BEAUFORT-DUKE of suffolk-quEEN
MARGARET-HUMPHREY DUKE OF GLOSTER-DUKE
Myths that care to keep your royal person
Y liege, his railing is intolerable:
from treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage,
be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
and the offender granted scope of speech,
'twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
Suf. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here
with ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd, as if she had subornéd some to swear
false allegations to o'erthrow his state?
Q. M. But I can give the loser leave to chide. Glou. Far truer spoke than meant: I lose, indeed;— beshrew the winners, for they played me false! and well such losers may have leave to speak. Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day:lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.
Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure.
Glou. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch,
before his legs be firm to bear his body:
thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
and wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.
Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were!
for, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.
IE there, the shadow of an emperor;
the place thou pressest on thy mother earth is all thy empire now: now it contains thee:
some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large, when thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn,
shrunk to a few cold ashes; then Octavia,
(for Cleopatra will not live to see it)
Octavia then will have thee all her own,
and bear thee in her widowed hand to Cæsar;
Cæsar will weep, the crocodile will weep,
to see his rival of the universe
lie still and peaceful there.—
I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;
of all forsaken, and forsaking all;
live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,
stretch'd at my length beneath some blasted oak,
I lean my head upon the mossy bark,
and look just of a piece as I grew from it:
my uncomb'd locks, matted like mistletoe,
hang o'er my hoary face; a murm'ring brook
runs at my foot. The herd come jumping by me,
and fearless quench their thirst, while I look on,
and take me for their fellow-citizen.
900 I have been a man, Ventidius.
Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but-
I know thy meaning.
But, I have lost my reason, have disgrac'd
the name of soldier, with inglorious ease.
In the full vintage of my flowing honours,
sate still, and saw it press'd by other hands.
Fortune came smiling to my youth, and woo'd it,
and purple greatness met my ripen'd years.
When first I came to empire, I was borne
on tides of people, crowding to my triumphs;
the wish of nations, and the willing world
receiv'd me as its pledge of future peace;
I was so great, so happy, so belov'd,
fate could not ruin me; till I took pains
and work'd against my fortune, chid her from me,
and turn'd her loose; yet still she came again.
My careless days, and my luxurious nights,
at length have wearied her, and now she's gone,
gone, gone, divorc'd for ever.
STAY and hear me yet; hear but a word,
and that my last, it may be; do not spill
the life of him in whom my life subsists;
kill not two lives in one! Remember, sir,
I was your daughter once, once you did love me;
and tell me then, what fault can be so great,
to make a father murderer of his child?
for so you are in taking of his life.
O think not, sir, that I will stay behind him,
whilst there be asps, and knives, and burning coal:
no Roman dame shall in her great example
outgo my love.
Oh where will sorrow stay?
Is there no end in grief? or in my death
not punishment enough for my offence,
but must her grief be added to afflict me?
Dry up those pearls, dearest Leucothoë,
or thou wilt make me doubly miserable.
Preserve that life, that I may after death
live in my better part. Take comfort, dear;
people would curse me if such beauty should
for me miscarry; no, live happy thou,
and let me suffer what the law inflicts.
902 DUCHESS OF FLORENCE-DUKE OF SIENNA
E must not be too hasty: remember, sir, the wrong and violence you have offer'd us; burnt up our frontier-towns, made prey before you both of our beasts and corn; slain our dear subjects ; opened the fountain-eyes of thousand widows that daily fling their curses on your fury: what ordinary satisfaction can salve this? Duke. I am at your mercy, lady; 'tis my fortune,
my stubborn fate; the day is yours, you have me:
the valour of one single man has cross'd me,
cross'd me and all my hope; for when the battles.
were at the hottest game of all their furies,
and conquest ready then to crown me victor,
one single man broke in one sword, one virtue,
and by his great example thousands follow'd ;-
oh, how I shame to think on't! how it shakes me!
nor could our strongest head then stop his fury,
but, like a tempest, bore the field before him,
till he arriv'd at me: with me he buckled;
a while I held him play; at length his violence
beat me from my saddle, then on foot pursu'd me,
there triumph'd once again, then took me prisoner:
when I was gone, a fear possess'd my people.