And bid her quickly don her shroud.— Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? Their death, a hideous storm of terror! Don clean linen, bathe your feet: And (the foul fiend more to check) A crucifix let bless your neck. 'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day: End your groan, and come away! Car. Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers! Alas! They are What will you do with my lady? Call for help! mad folks. Farewell, Cariola ! I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boy Some sirup for his cold; and let the girl Say her prayers ere she sleep.-Now what you please: Bos. Strangling. Here are your executioners. The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o' the lungs, Would do as much as they do. Bos. Doth not death fright you? Duch. Who would be afraid on't, Knowing to meet such excellent company In th' other world? Bos. Yet, methinks, The manner of your death should much afflict you; Duch. Not a whit. What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut With diamonds? or to be smothered With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls ? I know, death hath ten thousand several doors You may open them both ways, any way (for Heaven's sake) Tell my brothers, That I perceive, death (now I'm well awake) Best gift is, they can give or I can take. I would fain put off my last woman's fault; I'd not be tedious to you. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength Yet stay heaven gates are not so highly arched As princes' palaces; they that enter there Must go upon their knees.-Come, violent death, Go tell my brothers; when I am laid out, They then may feed in quiet. [They strangle her, kneeling. FERDINAND enters. Ferd. Is she dead? Bos. She is what you would have her. Fix your eye here. Ferd. Constantly. Bos. Do you not weep? Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out! 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. My thoughts are fixed in contemplation Why this huge Earth, this monstrous animal That eats her children, should not have eyes and ears. And forms no useless nor unperfect thing. Did Nature make the Earth, or the Earth Nature? Go to, go to; thou ly'st, Philosophy! Exclaiming thus: O thou all-bearing Earth, Which men do gape for till thou cramm'st their mouths 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, Gapes not my native country for my blood? Lies not my son tombed in the swelling main? 989283A Unto Andrugio but Andrugio: And that 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, Andr. Wouldst have me go unarmed among my foes? Being besieged by Passion, entering lists To combat with Despair and mighty Grief: 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; He who hath that, hath a battalion royal, |