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The desperate revelries of wild despair, Kindling their hell-born cressets, light to deeds That the poor captives would have died ere practised,

Till bondage sunk his soul to his condition. The Prison, Act I. Scene 3.

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AROUSE the tiger of Hyrcanian deserts, Strive with the half-starved lion for his prey; Lesser the risk than rouse the slumbering fire Of wild Fanaticism.


SAY not my art is fraud-all live by seeming.
The beggar begs with it, and the gay courtier
Gains land and title, rank and rule, by seeming:
The clergy scorn it not, and the bold soldier
Will eke with it his service. - All admit it,
All practise it; and he who is content
With showing what he is shall have small


In church or camp or state. So wags the world. Old Play.

STERN was the law which bade its votaries leave
At human woes with human hearts to grieve;
Stern was the law which at the winning wile
Of frank and harmless mirth forbade to smile;
But sterner still when high the iron-rod
Of tyrant power she shook, and called that
power of God.
The Middle Ages.

From The Monastery

O AY! the Monks, the Monks, they did the mis chief!

Theirs all the grossness, all the superstition
Of a most gross and superstitious age.

May HE be praised that sent the healthful tempest,

And scattered all these pestilential vapors;
But that we owed them all to yonder Harlot
Throned on the seven hills with her cup of gold,
I will as soon believe, with kind Sir Roger,
That old Moll White took wing with cat and
And raised the last night's thunder.

Old Play.

IN yon lone vale his early youth was bred.
Not solitary then- the bugle-horn
Of fell Alecto often waked its windings,
From where the brook joins the majestic river

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YES, it is she whose eyes looked on thy childhood,

And watched with trembling hope thy dawn of youth,

That now, with these same eyeballs, dimmed
with age,
And dimmer yet with tears, sees thy dishonor.
Old Play.

IN some breasts passion lies concealed and silent, Like war's swart powder in a castle vault, Until occasion, like the linstock, lights it; Then come at once the lightning and the thunder,

And distant echoes tell that all is rent asunder. Old Play.

DEATH distant? No, alas! he's ever with us,
And shakes the dart at us in all our actings:
He lurks within our cup while we 're in health:
Sits by our sick-bed, mocks our medicines;
We cannot walk, or sit, or ride, or travel,
But Death is by to eize us when he lists.
The Spanish Father.

come you here with mask and

Ay, Pedro,
Ladder of ropes, and other moonshine tools -
Why, youngster, thou mayst cheat the old

Flatter the waiting-woman, bribe the valet ;
But know, that I her father play the Gryphon,
Tameless and sleepless, proof to fraud or bribe,
And guard the hidden treasure of her beauty.
The Spanish Father.
IT is a time of danger, not of revel,
When churchmen turn to masquers.
The Spanish Father.

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Of yon gay meteors lost that better sense
That o'er the glow-worm doth the star esteem,
And merit's modest blush o'er courtly inso-

The Glass Slipper.

WHAT, man, ne'er lack a draught when the full


Stands at thine elbow and craves emptying!
Nay, fear not me, for I have no delight
To watch men's vices, since I have myself
Of virtue naught to boast of, I'm a striker,
Would have the world strike with me, pellmell,


Now fare thee well, my master! if true service Be guerdoned with hard looks, e'en cut the tow-line,

And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.


Now bid the steeple rock-she comes, she comes !

Speak for us, bells! speak for us, shrill-tongued tuckets!

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