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Updated: June 10, 2025
Then Weaver alludes to him as author of Venus, Lucrece, Romeo, Richard, "more whose names I know not." Freeman credits him with Venus and Lucrece. "Besides in plays thy wit winds like Meander." I repeat Heywood's evidence.
The climate had robbed her cheeks of much color, but not, it seemed, of all. "Your fault," said Heywood, impenitent. "Merely to show you. I could quote, once." "Aged Man!" She laughed, as though glad of this turn. "I like you better in prose. Go on, please, where we left off. What did you do then?" Heywood's smile, half earnest, half mischievous, obediently faded. "Oh, that!
Leaves 30-51 are taken up with Dick of Devonshire. If I succeed in transcribing this play I shall print it in the third volume, for it seems to be an unpublished play of Heywood's. There are many variations from the printed copies, showing that the most active of the old playwrights found time to revise his works. Here is a song that was omitted in the printed copy.
Within reach, in that radiance, a pair of sinewy yellow hands gripped the neck of a white cock. The wretched bird squawked once more, feebly, flapped its wings, and clawed the air, just as a second pair of arms reached out and sliced with a knife. The cock's head flew off upon the tiles. Hot blood spattered on Heywood's cheek.
Then he would be brought back to Raglan, and, thinking he was going to die, Dorothy would nurse him, and then she would be sure to fall in love with him. Yes he would ride forth on the fellow Heywood's mare, seek him in the field of battle, and slay him, but be himself thus grievously wounded. 'I rust, my lord, he said briefly. 'Ha! Thou wouldst to the wars! I like thee for that, boy.
The characters of Henrico's contracted bride, Eleonora, and Catalina, the good wife of a vicious husband, are drawn tenderly and skilfully. Heywood's eyes were oftener dim with tears than radiant with laughter; yet, with all his sympathy for the afflicted and the fallen, he never took a distorted view of society, but preserved untainted to the end a perennial spring of cheerfulness.
When at last the conference ended, and their unmated footsteps crossed the landing, a few sentences echoed from the stairway. "That is all," declared the voice, pleasantly. "The Chow Ceremonial says, 'That man is unwise who knowingly throws away precious things. And in the Analects we read, 'There is merit in dispatch." Heywood's reply was lost, except the words, "stupid people."
I said I guessed I would step over to Carrie Heywood's; but Aunt Jane said, certainly not; that I was much too young to be running around nights in the dark. Nights! And it was only seven o'clock, and not dark at all! But of course I couldn't go. Aunt Jane went upstairs, and I was left alone. I didn't feel a bit like reading; besides, there wasn't a book or a magazine anywhere asking you to read.
As he had suspected, they corresponded exactly, making all due allowance for the time they had been separated, and he had no longer a doubt that the mutilated boy was Mr. Heywood's help, Wilton.
George's Hall the interior hall itself, I mean is a spacious, lofty, and most rich and noble apartment, and very satisfactory. The pavement is made of mosaic tiles, and has a beautiful effect. April 7th. I dined at Mr. J. P. Heywood's on Thursday, and met there Mr. and Mrs. of Smithell's Hall.
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