A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 1 by Various
page 68 of 450 (15%)
page 68 of 450 (15%)
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I, now my _Troy_ lookes beautious in her flames; The _Tyrrhene_ Seas are bright with _Roman_ fires Whilst the amazed Mariner afarre, Gazing on th'unknowne light, wonders what starre Heaven hath begot to ease the aged Moone. When _Pirrhus_, stryding ore the cynders, stood On ground where _Troy_ late was, and with his Eye Measur'd the height of what he had throwne downe,-- A Citie great in people and in power, Walls built with hands of God--he now forgive[s] The ten yeares length and thinkes his wounds well heald, Bath'd in the blood of _Priams_ fifty sonnes. Yet am not I appeas'd; I must see more Then Towers and Collomns tumble to the ground; 'Twas not the high built walls and guiltlesse stones That _Nero_ did provoke: themselves must be the wood To feed this fire or quench it with their blood. _Enter a Woman with a burnt Child_. _Wom_. O my deare Infant, O my Child, my Child, Unhappy comfort of my nine moneths paines; And did I beare thee only for the fire, Was I to that end made a mother? _Nero_. I, now begins the sceane that I would have. _Enter a Man bearing another dead_. |
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