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Const. A wicked day, and not a holiday. | What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done;

That it in golden letters should be set,
Among the high tides in the calendar?
Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week;
This day of shame, oppression, perjury:
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with
child

Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day,

Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck; No bargains break, that are not this day

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To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Anne. No! why?-When he, that is my husband now,

Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse; When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands,

Which issu'd from my other angel husband, And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;

O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, This was my wish, "Be thou," quoth I,

"accurs'd,

For making me, so young, so old a widow! And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;

And be thy wife (if any be so mad)
More miserable by the life of thee,
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's
death!"

Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's

curse:

Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest;

For never yet one hour in his bed
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,
But with his timorous dreams was still
awak'd.

Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;

And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.
R. III., IV: 1. 1031.

CURSES.

Often a Prophecy.

Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand,

In sign of league and amity with thee: Now fair befall thee, and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,

Nor thou within the compass of my curse. Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never

pass

The lips of those that breathe them in the air. Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,

And there awake God's gentle-sleeping

peace.

O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog;

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Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, Let it no more bring out ingrateful man! Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears;

Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face

Hath to the marbled mansion all above Never presented!-0, a root,-Dear thanks!

Should yet be hungry!— Common mother, Dry up thy meadows, vines, and plough

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Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st

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Her feet were much too dainty for such Unplagu'd with corns, will have a bout with tread!

L. L., IV: 3. 290.

DAMNATION.-Dared by Revenge. Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with:

To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest

devil!

you;

Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, she,

I'll swear, hath corns: Am I come near you now?

You are welcome, gentlemen!

* *

Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables

pit!

I dare damnation: To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes; only I'll be reveng'd Most thoroughly for my father.

H., IV: 5. 1425.

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Cas.

Cæsar shall forth: The things that threaten'd me,

K. L., I: 4. 1452.

Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him:

Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they There is more in it than fair visage.

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For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,

And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York!

Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth; Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,

Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,

Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd!

Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat,

And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.

Prince. Let Esop fable in a winter's night:

His currish riddles sort not with this place. Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you

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M., 1: 7. 1362.

-In Extreme Peril. K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak :

What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,

Now am I like that proud insulting ship, Which Cæsar and his fortune bare at once. H. VI., 1 pt., I: 2. 868.

-Irrepressible.

Hor.

I'll cross it, though it blast me.

H., I: 1. 1392.

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