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Updated: May 28, 2025


You shalbe advertisd where she remaines, And certifie us how your mother takes it: When we are married we shall live to thanke you. Cla. Will you leave me, then? Bel. Prethee, poore heart, lament not; we shall meet, And all these stormes blowe over. Cla. Your tempests past; mine now begins to rise But Ile allay its violence with my eyes. Exeunt omnes. Actus Quartus.

Seeing myselfe compassed round about by a multitude of dogges, or rather devils, that rose from the grasse, rushesse, and bushesse, I shott my gunne, whether un warrs or purposly I know not, but I shott with a pistolle confidently, but was seised on all sids by a great number that threw me downe, taking away my arme without giving mee one blowe; ffor afterwards I felt no paine att all, onely a great guidinesse in my heade, from whence it comes I doe not remember.

Then hee which brought it set the cup aside, and drew out a little dagger stucke vp in the roofe of the house, and like a mad man he lift his head aloft, and ranne apace, and went and smote an Indian which sate alone in one of the corners of the hall, crying with a loud voyce, Hyou, the poore Indian stirring not at all for the blowe, which he seemed to endure patiently.

And where it semeth unto you, that I have guided the shot of the artillerie, after my owne devise, making it to passe over the heddes of my men, I answer you, that most often tymes, and without comparison, the greate ordinaunce misse the footemen, moche soner than hitte theim: for that the footemen are so lowe, and those so difficult to shoote; that every little that thou raisest theim, thei passe over the heddes of men: and if thei be leveled never so little to lowe, thei strike in the yearth, and the blowe cometh not to theim: also the unevenesse of the grounde saveth them, for that every little hillocke, or high place that is, betwene the men and thordinance, letteth the shot therof.

Myn ignoraunce whome clouded hath eclyppes With thy pure bemes illumynyne all aboute Thy blessyd brethe let refleyre in my lyppes And with the dewe of heven thou them degoute So that my mouth may blowe an encense oute The redolent dulcour aromatyke Of thy deputed lusty rhetoryke. The section of rhetoric.

And the Bishoppe aftre he hath saied one orasion ouer them all, wetyng his thumbe in the holie oile, maketh a crosse vpon eche of their foreheades: In the name of the father, sonne, and holie ghoste. And giueth hym a blowe on the lefte chieke, for a remembraunce of the Sacrament, that he come not for it againe.

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