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If! thou protector of this damned strumpet,
This is all as true as it is strange : Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning.
If circumstances lead me, I will find
For what is he they follow ? truly, gentlemen,
Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time
He would Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them, In human action and capacity, Of no more soul, nor fitness for the world, Than camels in their war; who have their Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them.
He hath no friends, but who are friends for fear;
Both more and less have given him the revolt ;
I cannot tell, what
and other men
Then live to be the shew and gaze o' the time;
Why should Cæsar be a tyrant then ? Poor man! I know, he would not be a wolf, But that he sees the Romans are but sheep: He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
I'll not call you tyrant ; But this most cruel usage of your queen (Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hing'd fancy,) something savours Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world.
I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name.
His demand Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, But from deceit, bred by necessity; For how can tyrants safely govern home, Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ? Our brother is imprison'd by your means, Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility Held in contempt; while great promotions Are daily given, to ennoble those That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.
Plague of your policy ! You sent me deputy for Ireland; Far from his succour, from the king, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him; Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolv'd him with an axe.
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
0, such a day
Now the time is come,
Which is the villain ? Let me see his
eyes : That when I note another man like him, I may avoid him. Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furious; Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous ! Thy age confirm’d, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody.
Thy currish spirit Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, Infus'd itself in thee: for thy. desires Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in all Denmark, But he's an arrant knave.
How far that little candle throws his beams !
Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do;
Forgive me this my virtue :
I never did repent for doing good,
I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ;
A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly hand
Thou hast under-wrought his lawful king,