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This change on noble brows? There is a voice,
seat, Put off your robes of state, and let your
mien Be pale and humbled ;
bear about you
Proc. Montalba, speak!
Mont. If we must plead to vindicate our acts,
Rai. I will plead
mercy is not guilt. But here, I feel
Guido. (Aside.) I look upon his mien,
Proc. Oh, thou dissembler !-thou,
Whose was this treachery? (Shows him papers.)
Rai. Who hath done this?
call thee by that nameLook, with thy piercing eye, on those whose smiles Were masks that hid their daggers. There, perchance, May lurk what loves not light too strong. For me, I know but this—there needs no deep research To prove
the truth—that murderers may be traitors, Even to each other.
Proc. (To Montalba.) His unaltering cheek
Mont. No! 'tis the unshrinking hardihood of crime.
Rai. That heaven, whose eye
Proc. And by that word
over, And I have but to die. Mont. Now, Procida,
Pro. Ha! ha!-Men's hearts should be of softer mold
Proc. Ay, thou sayest right. There yet are souls which tower As landmarks to mankind. Well, what's the task ? There is a man to be condemned, you say? Is he then guilty ?
All. Thus we deem of him
Proc. And hath he nought to plead ?
Proc. Why, that is little.
(He sinks back.) Mont. Guards, bear the prisoner Back to his dungeon.
Rai. Father! oh, look up!
Guido. Oh! Raimond, Raimond !
Rai. Friend of my young days,
(Raimond is led out. Proc. Whose voice was that? Where is he ?-gone ?-now I breathe once more.. In the free air of heaven. Let us away.
HUMOROUS AND DIVERTING.
Charles. Brother, all our friends have left us, and yet I am still in a playing humor. What game shall we choose ?
Henry. There are only two of us, and I am afraid we should not be much diverted.
Char. Let us play at something, however.
Hen. That is a game that would never end. It would not be as if there were a dozen, of which number some are generally off their guard ; but where there are only two, I should not find it difficult to shun you, or you me; and then when we had caught each other, we should know for certain who it was.
Char. That is true, indeed. Well, then, what think you of hot cockles ?
Hen. That would be the same, you know. We could not possibly guess wrong. Char. Perhaps we might. However, let us try.
. Hen. With all my heart
, if it please you. Look here, if you like it, I will be Hot Cockles first.
Char. Do, brother. Put your right hand on the bottom of this chair. Now stoop down and lay your face close upon it, that you may not see. (He does so.) That is well ;-and now your left hand on your back. Well master—but I hope your eyes are shut. (Carefully looking round to see.)
Hen. Yes yes; do not be afraid.
HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.
Mr. H. Ha! Steward, how are you my old boy? How do things go on at home ?
Steward. Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead. Mr. H. Poor mag ! so he's gone. How came he to die? Stew. Over-ate himself, sir.
Mr. H. Did he, faith ? a greedy dog; why, what did he get he liked so well ?
Stew. Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse-flesh.
Mr. H. To carry water! and what were they carrying water for ?
Stew. Sure sir, to put out the fire.
Stew. Oh, sir, your father's house is burned down to the ground.
Mr. H. My father's house burned down! and how came it set on fire ?
Stew. I think, sir, it must have been the torches.
mother's funeral. Mr. H. My mother dead! Stew. Ah, poor lady, she never looked
after it. Mr. H. After what? Stew. The loss of
father. Mr. H. My father gone
too ? Stew. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he heard of it.
Mr. H. Heard of what?
Stew. Yes sir, your bank has failed, and your credit is lost, and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I made bold, sir, to come to wait on you about it, for I thought you would like to hear the news.