1828.] The Revenger's Tragedy. 137 



Once the bright face of my betrothed lady, 



When life and beauty naturally filled out 



These ragged imperfections ; 



When two heaven-pointed diamonds were set 



In those unsightly rings ! then 'twas a face 



So far beyond the artificial shine 



Of any woman's bought complexion, 



That the uprightest man, if such there be, 



That sins but seven times a-day, broke custom, 



And made up eight with looking after her. 



Oh, she was able to ha' made an usurer's son 



Melt all his patrimony in a kiss, 



And what his father fifty years told, 



To have consumed, and yet his suit been cold. 



But, oh, accursed palace 1 



Thee, when thou wert appareled in thy flesh, 



That old duke poisoned, 



Because thy purer part would not consent 



Unto his palsied lust : for old men, lustful, 



Do shew like young men angry eager, violent : 



Oh, 'ware an old man hot and vicious ! 



Age, as in gold, in lust is covetous. 



Vengeance, thou murderest quit-rent, and whereby 

 Thou shew'st thyself tenant to tragedy, 

 Oh, keep thy day, hour, minute, I beseech 

 For those thou hast determined. Hum ! who e'er knew 

 Murder unpaid ? faith, give Revenge her due, 

 She's kept touch hitherto. Be merry, merry ! 

 Advance thee, O thou terror to fat folks ! 

 To have their costly three-piled flesh worn off 

 As bare as this : for banquets, ease, and laughter 

 Can make great men, as greatness goes by clay : 

 But wise men little, are more great than they. 



Enter HIPPOLITO. 



Hip. Still sighing o'er death's vizard ? 



Fin. Brother, welcome ! 

 What comfort bringest thou ? how go things at court ? 



Hip. In silk and silver, brother ; never braver. 



Fin. Puh ! 



Thou playest upon my meaning. Prithee say, 

 Has that bold madam, Opportunity, 

 Yet thought upon us ? Speak are we happy yet ? 

 Thy wrongs and mine are for one scabbard fit. 



Hip. It may prove happiness. 



Fin. What is it may prove ? 

 Give me to taste. 



Hip. Give me your hearing then. 

 You know my place at court? 



Fin. Ay the duke's chamber : 

 But 'tis a marvel thou'rt not turned out yet. 



Hip. Faith, I've been shoved out ; but 'twas still my hap 

 To hang by the duchess's skirt. You guess at that : 

 Whom such a coat keeps up can ne'er fall flat. 

 But to the purpose : 

 Last evening, predecessor unto this, 

 The duke's son warily inquired for me, 

 Whose pleasure I attended. He began 

 By policy to open and unhusk me 



M. M. New Series. VOL. V. No. 26. T 



