That then I should not pardon. Why should man,
For a poor hafty syllable or two, And vented only in forgetful fury,
Chain all the hopes and riches of his foul,
To the revenge of that, die loft for ever ? For he that makes his last peace with his maker
In anger; anger is his peace eternally :
He muft expect the fame return again,
Whose venture is deceitful.
Middleton and Rowley's Fair Quarrel.
But by his heralds first he pardons sent,
So Tamberlaine sent his white flag before. Henry by lenitives, not corr'fives meant Those ulcerated members to restore. No foldier but a herald; nor a blow; But strange, a pardon overthrew the foe.
The best of trophies; chiefly when the war
Is between king and subject: those are beft Complexion'd conquests, which least sanguine are; And those most modeft, which do blush the leaft. Camillus, once was by Rome's senate thought Worthy to triumph, tho' he had not fought. And greatést trophy too: they laid their hearts At Henry's feet to be triumphed o'er, And yielded their minds captive; which imparts The bravest glory to the conqueror.
When Kent was in commotion, I know, Corr'fives did cure the ulcers of the state; But should you use that course of physick now, You might the patients more exasperate? So the same simples, as th' experienc'd find, Gather'd at sev'ral times, do purge or bind, If to be great, not good were your intent; I have chalk'd out your way: 'twere a false aim, If by the ruins of the flain you meant,
To raise the pile and structure of your fame:
They which survive will the best trophies be, And living ftatues of this victory.
If Rome could pardon fins, as Romans hold; And if fuch pardons might be bought with gold; An easy judginent might determine which To chuse; to be religious, or else rich : Nay, Rome does pardon; pardons may be fold : We'll search no scriptures; but the mines for gold.
Have you no words but what are only good, Because their ill is quickly understood ? Dispose of Claudio's life! Whilft cruel you Seem dead, by being deaf to all that sue: Till by long custom of forgiving none, You're so averse to all forgiveness grown, That in your own behalf you shall deny
To hear of absolution, when you die.
Sir W. Davenant's Law against Lovers.
PARENTS.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young; And tho' man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet, in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not feen them, even with those wings, Which sometimes they have us'd with fearful flight, Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Off'ring their own lives in their young's defence ?
Shakespear's Third Part of King Henry VI.
When with too strict a rein, they do ho'd in Their child's affections; and controul that love, Which the high pow'rs divine instruct them with : When, in their shallow judgments, they may know,
Affection crofs'd, brings mifery and woe.
Robert Taylour's Hog hath lost his Pearl.
Fathers that deny their daughters lawful
Pleasures, when ripe for them; in some kind, edge
Their appetites, to taste of the fruit that
Beaumont and Fletcher's Elder Brother.
Oh, the blindness of a cov'tous wretched
Father, that is led only by the ears,
And in love with sounds! Nature had done well
To have thrust him into the world without
An eye, that like a mole is so affected
To base earth; and there means to dig for paradise. Fathers their children, and themselves abuse;
That wealth, a husband, for their daughters chuse.
Shirley's School of Compliments.
Honour thy parents to prolong thine end; With them, though for a truth, do not contend : Though all should truth defend, do thou lose rather The truth a while, than lose their loves for ever : Whoever makes his father's heart to bleed; Shall have a child that will revenge the deed.
And by the way, she sundry purpose found Of this or that, the time for to delay; And of the perils whereto he was bound, The fear whereof seem'd much her to affray : But allshe did, was but to wear out day. Full oftentimes she leave of him did take; And eft again deviz'd somewhat to say, Which she forgot; whereby excuse to make : So loth she was his company for to forfake.
Parting is such sweet forrow, That I shall say good night, till it be morrow.
Skakespear's Romeo and Juliet.
I would have thee gone,
And yet no further than a wanton's bird,
That lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor pris'ner in his twisted gyves;
And with a filk-thread plucks it back again,
So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Shakespear's Romeo and Juliet.
With his head over his shoulder turn'd, He seem'd to find his way without his eyes; For out of doors he went without their help,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.
As he could make me with this eye, or ear, Diftinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of's mind Could best express how flow his foul fail'd on, How swift his ship.
2. Thou should'st have made him
As little as a crow, or less; ere left
To after-eye him.
1. Madam, so I did.
2. I would have broken mine eye-strings, crack'd'em, but
To look upon him; till the diminution
Of Space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted, from The smallness of a gnat, to air; and then
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.
I did not take my leave of him, but had
Moft pretty things to say: Ere I could tell him, How I would freely think on him, at certain hours; Such thoughts, and such; or, I could make him swear,
The thees of Italy should not betray,
Mine int'reft and his honour; or have charg'd him At the fixth hour of the morn, at noon, at midnight, T'encounter me with orisons; for then I am in heav'n for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had fet 'Twixt two charming words, comes in my father; And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing.
With that, wringing my hand, he turns away; And tho' his tears would hardly let him look, Yet fuch a look did through his tears make way; As shew'd how fad a farewel there he took.
Sweetest love, I do not go,
For weariness of thee;
Nor in hope the world can show
A fitter love for me :
But fince that I
Muft die at last, 'tis best, Thus to use myself in jeft By feigned death to die.
Yesternight the fun went hence, And yet is here to day; He hath no defire nor sense, Nor half so short a way: Then fear not me, But believe that I shall make Hastier journeys, since I take More wings and spurs than he.
As in September, when our year refigns The glorious fun to the cold watry figns, Which through the clouds looks on the earth in scorn;
The little bird, yet to falute the morn, Upon the naked branches fets her foot, The leaves then lying on the mossy root; And there a filly chirripping doth keep, As though the fain would fing, yet fain would weep: Praifing fair fummer, that too foon is gone, Or fad for winter, too faft coming on: In this strange plight, I mourn for thy depart, Because that weeping cannot ease my heart.
Drayton's Queen Margaret to Duke of Suffolk.
I make no doubt, as I shall take the course, Which the shall never know, till it be acted;
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