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I passed, methought, the melancholy flood,
Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you ;
tell it. Clar.
0, Brackenbury, I have done those things, That now give evidence against my soul, For Edward's sake; and, see, how he requites me! O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath on me alone: O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children !I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
ACT III., SCENE I.
groan and sweat under a weary life;
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ;
EXTRACTS FROM PARADISE LOST.
Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate, With head uplift above the
eyes That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides Prone on the flood, extended long and large, Lay floating many a rood; in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warred on Jove, Briarëos or Typhon, whom the den By ancient Tarsus held; or that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim the ocean stream: Him, haply, slumbering on the Norway foam, The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays : So stretched out huge in length the arch-fiend lay, Chained on the burning lake.
He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore : his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesolè, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe. His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, He walked with, to support uneasy steps Over the burning marl, not like those steps On heaven's azure: and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire: Nathless he so endured, till on the beach Of that inflamed sea he stood, and called His legions, angel forms, who lay intranced Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks In Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shades High over-arched, imbower; or scattered sedge Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed Hath vexed the Red Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew Busiris and his Memphian chivalry, While with perfidious hatred they pursued The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld From the safe shore their floating carcases And broken chariot wheels : so thick bestrown, Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, Under amazement of their hideous change. He called so loud, that all the hollow deep Of hell resounded!
They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung
Upon the wing; as when men wont to watch
All these and more came flocking; but with looks Downcast and damp; yet such wherein appeared Obscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chief Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost In loss itself; which on his countenance cast Like doubtful hue: but he, his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears. Then straight commands, that at the warlike sound