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Ep. Laias alone; no errand mine for crowds.
1095 THOMAS PERCY, EARL OF WORCESTER TO
T is not possible, it cannot be,
the king should keep his word in loving us;
1096 CALANTHA before the dEAD BODY OF ITHOCLES
`ORGIVE me:—now I turn to thee, thou shadow
of my contracted lord: bear witness all,
I put my mother's wedding-ring upon
I but deceived your eyes with antick gesture
but it struck home, and here, and in an instant.
let me die smiling.
Near. 'Tis a truth too ominous.
Cal. One kiss on these cold lips; my last! crack, crack— Argos now's Sparta's king.
1097 CALENDARO A CONSPIRATOR-BERTUCCIO
CHIEF OF THE ARSENAL
UT if we fail- Bert. They never fail who die
Cal. in a great cause: the block may soak their gore;
their heads may sodden in the sun; their limbs
the world at last to freedom: What were we
1098 DONNA ISAbella on discovering the body
OF HER MURDERED SON DON MANUEL
E terror-stricken witnesses, that feed
your gaze upon my anguish, learn to know
that catching swift the boughs and knotted stems
the murderess of his sons, the destined spring
the innocent, the doomed one: from my arms
A. SWANWICK from Schiller
brother! D. C. Sister, are thy tears for me? Live for our mother!
D. C. For our mother?
for her and for thy sister! Cho. She has won:
D. C. (to his brother's coffin) I will not rob thee, brother,
to deck this earthly sphere, and make a lot
In dread amaze I stand, nor know
A. SWANWICK from Schiller
1100 LORD CLIFFORD-EDMUND EARL OF RUTLAND.
OW now! is he dead already? Or, is it fear, that makes him close his eyes?—I'll open them.
Rut. 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;
be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again:
he is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
1101 Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine, were not revenge sufficient for me;
no, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,
it could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
is as a fury to torment my soul;
[Lifting his hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death:to thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity mẹ!
Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.
Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me?
Rut. But 'twas ere I was born.
Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me;
lest, in revenge thereof,-since God is just,-
Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Clif. No cause?
Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.
1102 ARCAS SEEING MEROPE WITH THE AXE UPLIFTED AGAINST ÆPYTUS
And a captive to the dear next-of-kin to him he murdered. Stand and let vengeance pass!
thou know'st not whom thou strik'st...
Arc. Unhappy one! thou strik'st-
Hold, O Queen, hold!
I know his crime.
A most just blow.
Arc. No, by the gods, thou slay'st
Mer. Ah!... [she lets the axe drop and falls insensible]
Who are these? What shrill, ear-piercing scream wakes me thus kindly from the perilous sleep wherewith fatigue and youth had bound mine eyes, even in the deadly palace of my foe?—
Arcas! Thou here?
O my dear master! O
my child, my charge belov'd, welcome to life! as dead we held thee, mourn'd for thee as dead. 1103 Ep. In word I died, that I in deed might live. But who are these?
Ep. And, Arcas!-but I tremble!
Messenian maidens, friends.
Ep. That black-robed, swooning figure?...
Ep. O mother! mother!
Ep. No, by the Gods, alive and like to live!