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FIFTH SPEAKER (a law student ).
What thinkest thou
I will not think but that our country's wounds
As adders cast their skins And keep their venom, so kings often change; Councils and counsellors hang on one another, Hiding the loathsome [
] Like the base patchwork of a leper's rags.
0, still those dissonant thoughts-List ! loud music
The Capitolian-See how gloriously
Aye, there they are Nobles, and sons of nobles, patentees, Monopolists, and stewards of this poor farm, On whose lean sheep sit the prophetic crows. Here is the pomp that strips the houseless orphan, Here is the pride that breaks the desolate heart. These are the lilies glorious as Solomon, Who toil not, neither do they spin,-unless It be the webs they catch poor rogues withal. Here is the surfeit which to them who earn The niggard wages of the earth, scarce leaves The tithe that will support them till they crawl Back to its cold hard bosom. Here is health Followed by grim disease, glory by shame, Waste by lame famine, wealth by squalid want, And England's sin hy England's punishment. And, as the effect pursues the cause foregone, Lo, giving substance to my words, behold At once the sign and the thing signified A troop of cripples, beggars, and lean outcasts, Horsed upon stumbling shapes, carted with dung, Dragged for a day from cellars and low cabing And rotten hiding-holes to point the moral Of this presentiment, and bring up the rear Of painted pomp with misery!
Enter the King, QUEEN, LAUD, WENTWORTH, and
And, gentlemen, Call your poor Queen your debtor. Your quaint pageant Rose on me like the figures of past years, Treading their still path back to infancy, More beautiful and mild as they draw nearer) The quiet cradle. I could have almost wept To think I was in Paris, where these shows Are well devised such as I was ere yet My young heart shared with [
] the task, 2 F 2
the careful weight of this great monarchy.
I crave permission of your Majesty
What, ny Archy! He mocks and mimics all he sees and hears, Yet with a quaint and graceful license-Pritheo For this once do not as Prynne would, were he Primate of England. He lives in his own world ; and, like a parrot, Hung in his gilded prison from the window Of a queen's bower over the public way, Blasphemes with a bird's mind :-his words, like arrows Which know no aim beyond the archer's wit, Strike sometimes what eludes philosophy.
QUEEN, Goy, sirrah, and repent of your offence Ten minutes in the rain : be it your penince To bring news how the world goes there. Poor Archy! He weaves about himself a world of mirth Out of this wreck of ours.
My Lord, Pray overlook these papers. Archy's words Had wings, but these have taluns.
And the lion
Do thou persist : for, faint but in resolve,