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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 4"


I built for prayer unto a bedd of sinnes!
Which thus I'l punish; this religious place,
Once vowed to sanctity, I'l undermyne
And in one instant blowe the structure upp
With all th'unhallowed covent.
_Lady_. Praye, no extreames:
Where one offends shall for his heighnous fact
So many suffer? there's no justyce in't.
_Lord Av_. Som justyce I would showe them heare on earthe
Before they finde it multiplyed in heaven.
_Lady_. For my sake, syr, do not for one man's error
Destroy a woorke of perpetuity,
By which your name shall lyve. One man offends;
Lett the delinquent suffer.
_Lord Av_. So't shallbe,
And thou hast well advysed. Som pen and Inke theire!
_Lady_. What purpose you?
_Lord Av_. That's soly to my selfe
And in my fyxt thoughts stands irreproovable.
_Enter Dennis with pen, inke, and paper_.
Syr, heares pen inke and paper.
_Lord Av_. To his letter
My self will give him answer. (_writes_)
_Denis_. Suer all's not well that on the suddane thus
My lord is so distempered.
_Lady_. I have, I feare,
Styr'd such a heate, that nought save blood will quensh:
But wish my teares might doo't; hee's full of storme,
And that in him will not bee easily calmd.


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