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176 I have bewept a worthy husband's death, And lived by looking on his images.
178 O'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep.
179 0, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel; The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men, In undetermined differences of kings. 16—ii. 2.
25-iv. 2. 181
Full of repentance,
Grief softens the mind, And makes it fearful and degenerate. 22-iv. 3.
In the glasses of thine eyes I see thy grieved heart.
187 Lo! here the hopeless merchant of this loss, With head declined, and voice damm’d up
woe, With sad set eyes and wretched arms across, From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow The grief away, that stops his answer so; But wretched as he is, he strives in vain; What he breathes out, his breath drinks up again. As through an arch the violent roaring tide Out-runs the eye, that doth behold his haste; Yet in the eddie boundeth in his pride Back to the strait, that forced him on so fast, In rage sent out, recall'd in rage being past: Even so his sighs, his sorrows, make a saw, To push grief on, and back the same grief draw.
My particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o’erbearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
When my heart,
'Tis with my mind As with the tide, swell’d up unto its height, That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
192 Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast. 17-ii. I.
194 My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it. 26- üi.3.
195 Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. 35–ii2. 196 My heart is great; but it must break with silence, Ere't be disburden'd with a liberali tongue.
197 There's nothing in this world, can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Aexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. 16-iii. 4.
198 Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, And caterpillars eat my leaves away. 22-jï. 1.
kind gods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature! The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind
up Of this child-changed father!
200 As the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints, Like strengthless hinges buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keeper's arms; even so my limbs, Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief, Are thrice themselves."
201 Our strength is all gone into heaviness, That makes the weight !
202 Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then have I reason to be fond of grief. 16-iii. 4.
I Bend, yield to pressure. Anger and terror have been known to remove a fit of the gout; to give activity to the bed-ridden; and to produce instantaneous and most extraordinary energies.
16-iii. 1, 204 Even through the hollow eyes of death, I spy
life peering; but I dare not say How near the tidings of our comfort is. 17-ü. I.
The last she spake
206 I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill’d, and so becoming.
207 Are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart?
208 Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul; Holding the eternal spirit against her will, In the vile prison" of afflieted breath. 16-iii. 4.
209 A cyprus, not a bosom, Hides my poor heart.
4-üi. 1. 210
Ah, cut my lace asunder! That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.
n“ Vile body."..-Phil. iii. 21.
• Transparent stuff.