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BLOW, winds, and burit your cheeks---rage louder yet:
Till you have drown'd the towns and palaces
RUMBLE thy fill; fight whirlwind, rain and fire-
That have with two pernicious daughters, join'd
That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads,
Hide, hide, thou murd'rer, hide thy bloody hand.
That drink'ft the widow's tears, figh now, and ask
More finn'd againft, than finning.
My wits begin to burn
-I am a man,
Come on, my boy; how doft, my boy? Art cold?
And can make vile things precious.---My poor knave,
Cold as I am at heart, I've one place there
That's forry yet for thee.
THOU think'ft 'tis much that this contentious form
Invades us to the fkin; fo 'tis to thee:
But, where the greater malady is fix'd,
The leffer is fcarce felt the tempeft in mind
For lifting food to't!
To fhut me out!
-In fuch a night
In fuch a night as this?—O Regan, Goneril!
POOR naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are,
Oh! I have ta’en too little care of this.
Take phyfic, Pomp!
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
YE amaranths! ye rofes, like the morn!
The day's uncommon heat has overcome her. ;
Who would not think that being innocent?
Where fhall I strike ?-Who strikes her, strikes himself
My own life-blood will iffue at her wound-
Ha! fmile again ?-She dreams of him fhe loves.-
WHAT noife is this!-not dead? not yet quite dead ?—
'Tis like she comes to speak of Caffio's death-
WHAT a damn'd epicurean rascal is this I! My heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who fays this is improvident jealoufy? My wife hath
fent to him; the
hour is fix'd; the match is made.
minates; then, fhe devifes: and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven be praised for my jealousy! Eleven o'clock is the hour. I will prevent this detect my wife; be revenged on Falstaff; and laugh at Page. -I will about it. Better three hours too foon, than a minute too late.-Fy, fy, fy !-cuckold, cuckold, cuckold-O the devil!
HUM! ha! is this a vifion? Is this a dream? Do I fleep? Mafter Ford, awake; awake, Mafter Ford: there's a hole made in your best coat, Mafter Ford. This 'tis to be married! This 'tis to have linen and buck-baskets!Well, I will proclaim myfelf what I am. I will now take the letcher. He is at my house. He cannot 'efcape me. 'Tis impoffible he should. He cannot creep into a half-penny purse, nor into a pepperbox. But, left the devil, that guides him, fhould aid him, I will fearch impoffible places. Though what I am; I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not, fhall not make me tame. If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me-I'll be horn mad.
XXVIII. CHEARFUL NÉ S 5.'
'OW, every thing doth make a gleeful scene. The birds chant melody on every bush; The fnake lies rolled in the chearful fun;
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
*This article, and, the following, fhould have preceded the
examples of Joy.
Under their sweet fhade let us fit a while,
-And hear the babbling echo mock the hounds,
As if a double hunt were heard at once.
Whilft hounds and horns, and sweet melodious birds,
Of lullaby, to bring her babe afleep.
WISH'D morning's come! And, now, upon the plains
'N Belmont is a lady richly left,
IN Rumont of a virtues. Sometime, from her eyes,
I did receive fair fpeechlefs meffages.
Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalu'd
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ;
To hold a rival place with one of them,