« PreviousContinue »
And follow'd will be impudence, Bonduca,
Run, run, Bonduca, not the quick rack swifter;
Not half so fearful;—not a flight drawn home,
Bon. O ye powers,
What scandals do I suffer!
I have seen thee run too, and thee, Nennius;
But not so fast; your jewel had been lost then,
But that the son of Virtue, Penyus,
Seeing me steer through all these storms of danger,
Thy manly sword has ransom'd thee: grow strong, "And let me meet thee once again in arms:
"Then if thou stand'st, thou art mine." I took his offer,
And here I am to honour him.
BLOODY BROTHER; OR, ROLLO. A TRA-
Rollo, Duke of Normandy, a bloody tyrant, puts to death kis tutor Baldwin, for too freely reproving him for his crimes; but afterwards falls in love with Edith, daughter to the man he has slain. She makes a show of returning kis love, and invites him to a banquet; her design being to train him there, that she may kill him : but overcome by his flatteries, and real or dissembled remorse, she faints in her resolution.
Rol. What bright star, taking beauty's form upon her, In all the happy lustre of heaven's glory, Has dropt down from the sky to comfort me? Wonder of Nature, let it not prophane thee My rude hand touch thy beauty, nor this kiss, The gentle sacrifice of love and service, Be offer'd to the honour of thy sweetness. Edi. My gracious lord, no deity dwells here, Nor nothing of that virtue but obedience; The servant to your will affects no flattery.
Rol. Can it be flattery to swear those eyes
Oh, look upon me with thy spring of beauty,
Rol. By heaven, my Edith,
Thy mother fed on roses when she bred thee.
Rol. So you please sit by me.
Fair gentle maid, there is no speaking to thee,
Ties up my tongue: pray speak to me.
Edi. Of what, sir?
Rol. Of any thing, any thing is excellent.
How masterly he turns himself to catch me.
Edi. Your tears, sir;
You weep extremely; strengthen me now, justice,
Why are these sorrows, sir?
Rol. Thou'lt never love me,
If I should tell thee; yet there's no way
Ever to purchase this blest paradise,
Rol. They're for blood then,
For guiltless blood; and they must drop, my Edith,
When thou hast loaden me with earth for ever,
As I was smear'd in blood, do not thou hate me;
Edi. He will fool me.
Rol. Oh, with thine angel eyes behold and bless me : Of heaven we call for mercy and obtain it,
To justice for our right on earth and have it,
Of thee I beg for love, save me, and give it.
Edi. Now, heaven, thy help, or I am gone for ever, His tongue has turn'd me into melting pity.
A TRAGEDY. BY
THIERRY AND THEODORET.
Thierry, King of France, being childless, is foretold by an Astrologer, that he shall have Children if he sacrifice the first Woman that he shall meet at sun-rise coming out of the Temple of Diana. He waits before the Temple, and the first Woman he sees, proves to be his own Wife Ordella. THIERRY, MARTEL, a Nobleman.
Mart. Your grace is early stirring.
Whose happiness is laid up in an hour
He knows comes stealing towards him? Oh Martel!
A power above these passions; this day France,
Into forgotten ways, again I ransom,
And his fair course turn right.
Mart. Happy woman, that dies to do these things.
Mothers of many children and blest fathers
That see their issue like the stars unnumber'd,
Their comfort more than them, shall in my praises
Now teach their infants songs; and tell their ages