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And turn you

all
your

hatred now on me? Did York's dread curse prevail so much with

heaven, That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, Could all but answer for that peevish brat ? Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven? Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick

curses ! Though not by war, by surfeit die your king! As ours by murder, to make him a king! Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales, Die in his youth, by like untimely violence! Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's loss; And see another, as I see thee now, Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! Long die thy happy days before thy death; And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! Rivers,—and Dorset,—you were standers by, And so wast thou, lord Hastings, --when my son Was stabb’d with bloody daggers; God, I pray

him,
That none of you may

live
your
natural

age, But by some unlook'd accident cut off! GLOSTER. Have done thy charm, thou hateful

wither'd hag.
Q. MAR. And leave out thee? stay, dog, for

thou shalt hear me.
If heaven have any grievous plague in store,
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe,
And then hurl down their indignation

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On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul!
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while some tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils !
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
The slave of nature, and the son of hell!
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb !
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins !
Thou rag of honour! thou detested Richard !

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, s. 3.

HEROES ARE LEAST SO WHEN AT

HOME; OR, THE FAREWELL OF

LOVE AND FORTITUDE. COME, leave your tears; a brief farewell :-the

beast With many heads butts me away.-Nay, mother, Where is

your
ancient

courage ? you were us'd
To say, extremity was the trier of spirits ;
That common chances common men could bear;
That, when the sea was calm, all boats alike
Show'd mastership in floating : fortune's blows,
When most struck home, being gentle wounded,

:

craves

A noble cunning: you were us’d to load me
With precepts, that would make invincible
The heart that conn'd them. Nay, mother,
Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say,
If you had been the wife of Hercules,

Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd
Your husband so much sweat.—Cominius,
Droop not; adieu :-Farewell, my wife! my

mother!
I'll do well yet.—Thou old and true Menenius,
Thy tears are salter than a younger man's,
And venomous to thine eyes.—My sometime

general, I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hard’ning spectacles; tell these sad women, 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at them.--My mother, you wot

well, My hazards still have been your

solace : Believe't not lightly, (though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than seen,)

: and

your son

Will, or exceed the common, or be caught
With insiduous baits and practice.

Fare ye well, Cominius :
Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full
Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one
That's yet unbruis’d: bring me but out at gate.-
Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and
My friends of noble touch, when I am forth,
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come.
While I remain above the ground, you

shall Hear from me still; and never of me aught But what is like me formerly.

CORIOLANUS, A. 4, s. 1.

HEROES NOT ALWAYS STATESMEN. CORIOLANUS. Now, as I live, I will.-My

nobler friends,

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I crave their pardons :
For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them
Regard me as I do not flatter, and
Therein behold themselves; I say again,
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition,
Which we ourselves have ploughed for, sow'd

and scatter'd,
By mingling them with us, the honour'd number;
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that
Which they have given to beggars.

SENATOR. No more words, we beseech you. COR.

How! no more ? As for my country I have shed my blood, Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs Coin words till their decay, against those lepers Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought The very way to catch them. BRUTUS.

You speak o' the people, As if

you were a god to punish, not A man of their infirmity.

CORIOLANUS, A. 3, s. 1.

HEROIC SYMPATHY. HOTSPUR. O, Harry, thou hast robbed me

of my youth: I better brook the loss of brittle life, Than those proud titles thou hast won of me; They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword my

flesh : But thought's the slave of life, and life time's

fool;

And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,

But now,

But that the earthly and cold hand of death Lies on my tongue :No, Percy, thou art dust, And food for

[Dies. P. HENRY. For worms, brave Percy Fare

: thee well, great heart ! Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound;

two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough :—This earth, that bears thee

dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal :But let my favours hide thy mangled face; And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself For doing these fair rites of tenderness. Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remember'd in thy epitaph !

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 5, s. 4.

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HEROISM.

I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius, and his Antiates : And that you not delay the present; but, Filling the air with swords advanc'd, and darts, We prove

hour.

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, s. 6.

this very

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