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A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 1 by Various
page 68 of 450 (15%)

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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