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Updated: June 10, 2025
Heywood's having been carried off by the Indians, for I was deeply anxious, as you may presume, to know what had become of my friend and this far less even for my own sake than for yours." "And his answer was?" and there was deep melancholy in the question. "That no American uniform had come under his notice during his absence from the Fort, save those of the party he commanded.
"Ah, John, it was you then that brought a little light into this darkness?" cried the king, with a cheerful laugh, as he laid his hand on Heywood's shoulder. "Now, verily, what the wise and prudent did not see, that the fool has seen through!"
Eat he could not in this lazaret, but sipped a little of the dark Kirin brew, and plunged again into his researches. Alone with his lamp and rustling papers, he fought through perplexities, now whispering, now silent, like a student rapt in some midnight fervor. "What ho! Mustn't work this fashion!" Heywood's voice woke him, sudden as a gust of sharp air. "Makee finish!"
Here he was interrupted by the gradually approaching sounds of rattling deer hoofs, so well known as composing one of the lower ornaments of the Indian war-dress, while, at the same moment, the wild moaning of Loup Garou, then standing at the front door-way, was renewed even more plaintively than before. Mr. Heywood's cheek blanched.
"Non sum qualis eram sub bonae regno Cynarae," said his Grace of Ormskirk. He had a statesman-like partiality for the fag-end of an alcaic. Then he lifted his head at the sound of a girl's voice. Somewhere rearward to the hedge the girl idly sang an old song of Thomas Heywood's, in a serene contralto, low-pitched and effortless, but very sweet. Smilingly the Duke beat time.
It widened suddenly before him. In the small chamber of the mine, choked with the smell of stale betel, he bumped Heywood's elbow. "Some Fragrant Ones have been working here, I should say." The speaker patted the ground with quick palms, groping. "Phew! They've worked like steam. This explains old Wutz, and his broken arrow. I say, Rudie, feel about. I saw a coil of fuse lying somewhere.
Rudolph gave a choking cry, and would have come forward; but Sturgeon clung to the wounded arm, and bound on his bandage. "Hold still, there!" he scolded, as though addressing a horse; then growled in Heywood's ear, "Why did you go lose your temper?" "Didn't. We can't let him walk over us, though." The young man held the sword across his throat, and whispered, "Only angry up to here!"
But you know, Senator, intense feeling in politics sometimes sways a man's judgment. In view of Mr. Heywood's long controversy, I hope that if he has taken a view adverse to mine, his antagonism may be mitigated in your mind by your own knowledge of human feelings." Senator Platt held out the letter to me. "You've won your motion for a re-hearing," he said.
Bond for having made this and other similar pieces accessible in his edition of the poet, we need not necessarily accept his view of the authorship. To the end of the sixteenth century belong undoubtedly many of the pieces printed for the first time in 1637 in Thomas Heywood's volume of Dialogues and Dramas.
The lines are from old Heywood's "Hierarchie of Angels," and he subjoins a curious story in confirmation, of a Spaniard who attempted to assassinate a King Ferdinand of Spain, and being put to the rack could give no other reason for the deed but an inveterate antipathy which he had taken to the first sight of the King.
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