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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

"The works of John Dryden, $c now first collected in eighteen volumes. $p Volume 07"


_Mal._ Your niece is come to court,
And yields her honour to our Henry's bed.
_Gril._ Thou liest, damned villain. [_Strikes him._
_Mal._ So: why this I looked for;
But yet I swear by hell, and my revenge,
'Tis true, as you have wronged me.
_Gril._ Wronged thee, villain!
And name revenge! O wert thou Grillon's match,
And worthy of my sword, I swear, by this
One had been past an oath; but thou'rt a worm,
And if I tread thee, darest not turn again.
_Mal._ 'Tis false; I dare, like you, but cannot act;
There is no force in this enervate arm.
Blasted I was ere born--curse on my stars!--
Got by some dotard in his pithless years,
And sent a withered sapling to the world.
Yet I have brain, and there is my revenge;
Therefore I say again, these eyes have seen
Thy blood at court, bright as a summer's morn,
When all the heaven is streaked with dappled fires.
And flecked with blushes like a rifled maid;
Nay, by the gleamy fires that melted from her,
Fast sighs and smiles, swol'n lips, and heaving breasts,
My soul presages Henry has enjoyed her.
_Gril._ Again thou liest! and I will crumble thee,
Thou bottled spider, into thy primitive earth,
Unless thou swear thy very thought's a lie.
_Mal._ I stand in adamant, and thus defy thee!
Nay, draw, and with the edge betwixt my lips,
Even while thou rak'st it through my teeth, I'll swear
All I have said is true, as thou art honest,
Or I a villain.


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