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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 4"

I heare the Duke is strong.
_Fred_. Suppose him so,
And be advis'd strongly to meete the foe.
I had rather, you should think him ten thousand strong
Then find it so to our destruction.
An enemy thought many and found few,
When our first courage failes, gives us a new.
[_Alarum_.
_Alberto_. That's the Dukes Drum.
_Fred_. They are welcome to their death,
The ground they tread on covers them with earth.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter Fredericke and Duke severall_.
_Fred_. The enemy sends forth a Champion
To encounter me, I heard him use my name;
The honour of the combate shall be mine.
_Duke_. Come, boy, retreate not, only I intend
With thy lifes losse this bloody warre to end.
_Fred_. My naturall father in my blood I feele,
Passion more powerfull then that conquering steele.
_Duke_. Why dost thou pause, base boy? thy Soveraigne's come,
To inter the life I gave thee in this tombe.
_Fred_. My father, oh my father! nature, be still
That I may have my fame, or he his will.


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