Francis the First, a Tragedy

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: ACT III. SCENE I.?THE ROYAL CHAMBER. Francis discovered. Francis. By Jupiter he must have made an errand Unto th' antipodes, or this new world, Which, it should seem, our grandsire Adam's will Did leave to Charles of Spain, else doth he wear Dull lead for Mercury's air-cutting pinions. Enter Clement. Why,...
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: ACT III. SCENE I.?THE ROYAL CHAMBER. Francis discovered. Francis. By Jupiter he must have made an errand Unto th' antipodes, or this new world, Which, it should seem, our grandsire Adam's will Did leave to Charles of Spain, else doth he wear Dull lead for Mercury's air-cutting pinions. Enter Clement. Why, how now, slow foot art thou lame, I prithee ? Hath she the ring, ?hath she perused the letter, ? What does she, ?says she, ?answers she ? Be quick, Man; thy reply. Come, come, the devil speed thee. CLEMENT. My liege I found the lady beaming all With smiles of hope her brother should be chosen: Then to her hand deliver'd I your scroll. FRANCIS. CLEMENT. The which she, with a doubting look, did open; And, for a moment, her fix'd eye did seem To drink the characters, but not the sense Of your epistle: like some traveller, Who, lacking understanding, passes o'er Wide tracts and foreign countries, yet brings back No fruit of his own observation: thus Stood the fair lady, till her eye was fain Begin the scroll again; and then, as though That moment comprehension woke in her, The blood forsook her cheeks; and straight, asham'd Of its unnatural desertion, drew A crimson veil over her marble brows. Francis. I would I'd borne the scroll myself, thy words Image her forth so fair CLEMENT. Do they, indeed? Then sorrow seize my tongue for, look you, sir, I will not speak of your own fame or honour, Nor of your word to me: king's words, I find, Are drafts on our credulity, not pledges Of their own truth. You have been often pleas'd To shower your royal favours on my head; And fruitful honours from your kindly will Have rais'd me far beyond my fondest hopes; But had I kn...