2nd. Fisherman. Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, and is turned to a rusty armour.

Per. Rise, pr'ythee, rise;

Sit down, sit down; thou art no flatterer;

I thank thee for it; and high heaven forbid

That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid!

Per. What's here!

A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre?

Act 11. Scene V.

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear; No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements

Forget thee utterly; nor have I time

To give thee hallow'd to thy grave.

Mar.

Ah me! poor maid,

Born in a tempest, when my mother died,

This world to me is like a lasting storm, Whirring me from my friends.

Act IV. Scene I.

Per.

Yet thou dost look

Like patience, gazing on kings' graves, and smiling Extremity out of act.

Act V. Scene 1.