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The element of water moistens the earth,

But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens.

Ferd. Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young. Bos. I think not so: her infelicity

Seemed to have years too many.

Ferd. She and I were twins;

And should I die this instant, I had lived

Her time to a minute. . . .

John Marston.

THE HISTORY OF ANTONIO AND MELLIDA. ANDRUGIO, Duke of Genoa, banished his Country, with the loss of a Son, supposed drowned, is cast upon the territory of his mortal enemy the Duke of Venice, with no attendants but Lucio, an old Nobleman, and a Page.

Andr. Is not yon gleam the shudd'ring Morn, that flakes With silver tincture the east verge of heaven?

Luc. I think it is, so please your excellence.
Andr. Away! I have no excellence to please.
Prithee, observe the custom of the world,
That only flatters greatness, states exalts.
And please my excellence! O Lucio,
Thou hast been ever held respected, dear,
Even precious to Andrugio's inmost love:
Good, flatter not.

My thoughts are fixed in contemplation

Why this huge Earth, this monstrous animal

That eats her children, should not have eyes and ears.
Philosophy maintains that Nature's wise,

And forms no useless nor unperfect thing.

Did Nature make the Earth, or the Earth Nature?
For earthly dirt makes all things, makes the man,
Moulds me up honour, and, like a cunning Dutchman,
Paints me a puppet even with seeming breath,
And gives a sot appearance of a soul.
Go to, go to; thou ly'st, Philosophy!
Nature forms things unperfect, useless, vain.
Why made she not the Earth with eyes and ears,
That she might see desert, and hear men's plaints?
That when a soul is splitted, sunk with grief,
He might fall thus upon the breast of Earth,
And in her ear halloo his misery,
Exclaiming thus: O thou all-bearing Earth,
Which men do gape for till thou cramm'st their mouths
And chok'st their throats with dust: open thy breast,
And let me sink into thee! Look who knocks:

Andrugio calls. But oh, she's deaf and blind!
A wretch but lean relief on earth can find.

Luc. Sweet lord, abandon passion, and disarm. Since by the fortune of the tumbling sea

We are rolled up upon the Venice marsh,

Let's clip all fortune, lest more low'ring fate

Andr. More low'ring fate! O Lucio, choke that breath. Now I defy Chance! Fortune's brow hath frowne,

Even to the utmost wrinkle it can bend;
Her venom's spit. Alas! what country rests,
What son, what comfort, that she can deprive?
Triumphs not Venice in my overthrow?
Gapes not my native country for my blood?

Lies not my son tombed in the swelling main?
And in more low'ring fate? There's nothing left


Unto Andrugio but Andrugio: And that

Nor mischief, force, distress, nor hell can take !
Fortune my fortunes, not my mind shall shake.

Luc. Speak like yourself; but give me leave, my lord,
To wish you safety. If you are but seen,
Your arms display you; therefore put them off,

And take

Andr. Wouldst have me go unarmed among my foes? Being besieged by Passion, entering lists

To combat with Despair and mighty Grief:
My soul beleaguered with the crushing strength
Of sharp Impatience. Ha! Lucio; go unarmed?
Come, soul, resume the valour of thy birth;
Myself myself will dare all opposites;
I'll muster forces, an unvanquished power;
Cornets of horse shall press th' ungrateful Earth;
This hollow-wombed mass shall inly groan
And murmur to sustain the weight of arms;
Ghastly Amazement, with upstarted hair,

Shall hurry on before, and usher us,
Whilst trumpets clamour with a sound of death.

Luc. Peace, good my lord, your speech is all too light. Alas! survey your fortunes; look what's left

Of all your forces and your utmost hopes;
A weak old man, a page, and your poor self.

Andr. Andrugio lives; and a fair cause of arms, Why, that's an army all invincible.

He who hath that, hath a battalion royal,
Armour of proof, huge troops of barbèd steeds,
Main squares of pikes, millions of harquebuse.
Oh, a fair cause stands firm, and will abide;
Legions of angels fight upon her side!

George Chapman.


Men's Glories eclipsed when they turn Traitors.

As when the Moon hath comforted the Night, And set the world in silver of her light, The planets, asterisms, and whole State of Heaven, In beams of gold descending: all the winds Bound up in caves, charged not to drive abroad Their cloudy heads: an universal peace (Proclaimed in silence) of the quiet EarthSoon as her hot and dry fumes are let loose, Storms and clouds mixing suddenly put out The eyes of all those glories; the creation Turned into chaos; and we then desire, For all our joy of life, the death of sleep. So when the glories of our lives (men's loves, Clear consciences, our fames and loyalties), That did us worthy comfort, are eclipsed, Grief and disgrace invade us; and for all Our night of life besides, our misery craves Dark Earth would ope and hide us in our graves.


Give me a spirit that on life's rough sea
Loves to have his sails filled with a lusty wind,
Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack,
And his rapt ship run on her side so low,

That she drinks water, and her keel ploughs air.
There is no danger to a man, that knows
What life and death is: there's not any law

Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law:
He goes before them, and commands them all,
That to himself is a law rational.

Innocence the Harmony of the Faculties.
Innocence, the sacred amulet
'Gainst all the poisons of infirmity,
Of all misfortune, injury, and death;
That makes a man in tune still in himself;
Free from the hell to be his own accuser;
Ever in quiet, endless joy enjoying,

No strife nor no sedition in his powers;

No motion in his will against his reason;

No thought 'gainst thought; nor (as 'twere in the confines
Of whispering and repenting) both possess
Only a wayward and tumultuous peace;
But, all parts in him friendly and secure,
Fruitful of all best things in all worst seasons,
He can with every wish be in their plenty.

Thomas Heywood.


Noble Traitor.

A PERSIAN history

I read of late, how the great Sophy once
Flying a noble falcon at the herne,
In comes by chance an eagle sousing by:

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