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And thank the mercy of insulted Heaven
THIRD SPEAKER (a youth).
Yet, father, 'tis a happy sight to see,
By God or man;-'tis like the bright procession
From which men wake as from a paradise,
And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life.
Which bloom so rarely in this barren world?
O, kill these bitter thoughts which make the present Dark as the future!—
When avarice and tyranny, vigilant fear,
And open-eyed conspiracy lie sleeping
As on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughts
With his own gift.
How young art thou in this old age of time!
Not a spectator but an actor?
The day that dawns in fire will die in storms,
Even though the noon be calm. My travel's done; Before the whirlwind wakes I shall have found
My inn of lasting rest, but thou must still
Be journeying on in this inclement air.
Is the Archbishop.
Rather say the Pope.
London will be soon his Rome: he walks
As if he trod upon the heads of men.
He looks elate, drunken with blood and gold;
Which turns Heaven's milk of mercy to revenge.
ANOTHER CITIZEN [lifting up his eyes].
Good Lord! rain it down upon him. [
As if her nice feet scorned our English earth.
There's old Sir Henry Vane, the Earl of Pembroke,
Lord Essex, and Lord Keeper Coventry,
With papists, atheists, tyrants, and apostates.
FOURTH SPEAKER (a pursuivani).
Give place, give place!
You torch-bearers advance to the great gate,
FIFTH SPEAKER (a law student).
What thinkest thou
Of this quaint show of ours, my aged friend?
I will not think but that our country's wounds May yet be healed-The king is just and gracious, Though wicked counsels now pervert his will: These once cast off
As adders cast their skins
And keep their venom, so kings often change;
Like the base patchwork of a leper's rags.
O, still those dissonant thoughts--List! loud music Grows on the enchanted air! And see, the torches Restlessly flashing, and the crowd divided
Like waves before an Admiral's prow.
How glorious! See those thronging chariots
Like curved shells dyed by the azure depths
The mettled horses in the torchlight stir
Ay, there they are
Nobles, and sons of nobles, patentees,
The anti-masque, and serves as discords do
In sweetest music. Who would love May flowers
If they succeeded not to Winter's flaw;
Or day unchanged by night; or joy itself
SCENE II.-A Chamber in Whitehall.
Enter the KING, QUEEN, LAUD, WENTWORTH, and ARCHY.
Thanks, gentlemen, I heartily accept
This token of your service: your gay masque
Was performed gallantly.
Call your poor Queen your debtor. Your quaint pageant
Treading their still path back to infancy,
More beautiful and mild as they draw nearer
There, gentlemen, between the sovereign's pleasure
Its proud interposition.
My lord of Canterbury.
The fool is here.
I crave permission of your Majesty
To order that this insolent fellow be
What, my Archy !
He mocks and mimics all he sees and hears,
He lives in his own world; and, like a parrot,
Hung in his gilded prison from the window
Of a queen's bower over the public way,
Blasphemes with a bird's mind:-his words, like arrows
Go, sirrah, and repent of your offence
I take with patience, as my master did,
Poor Archy !
Pray overlook these papers. Archy's words
Had wings, but these have talons.
That wears them must be tamed.
And the lion
My dearest lord,
I see the newborn courage in your eye
Do thou persist: for, faint but in resolve,
The slave of thine own slaves, who tear like curs
Flies at his throat who falls. Subdue thy actions,
In a bright dream, and wake as from a dream
Unleash the sword and fire, that in their thirst
To turn the cheek even to the smiter's hand :
They talk of peace!
Such peace as Canaan found, let Scotland now.
My beloved lord,
Have you not noted that the fool of late
It partly is,
That our minds piece the vacant intervals
Or coals in the winter fire, idlers find
The perfect shadows of their teeming thoughts:
Are sown by wandering Rumour in all spirits
Be seen the current of the coming wind.