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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"The Saint's Tragedy"

'Till when she grew wizened, and he grew cold,
The balance lay even 'twixt young and old.'
Monk. Thus Satan bears witness perforce against the vanities of
Venus! But what's this babbling? Carolationes in the holy place?
Tace, vetula! taceas, taceto also, and that forthwith.
Old Woman. Tace in your teeth, and taceas also, begging-box! Who
put the halter round his waist to keep it off his neck,--who? Get
behind your screen, sirrah! Am I not a burgher's wife? Am I not in
the nave? Am I not on my own ground? Have I brought up eleven
children, without nurse wet or dry, to be taced nowadays by friars
in the nave? Help! good folks! Where be these rooks a going?
Knight. The monk has vanished.
1st Peas. It's ill letting out waters, he finds. Who is that old
gentleman, sir, holds the Princess so tight by the hand?
Knight. Her uncle, knave, the Bishop.
1st Peas. Very right, he: for she's almost a born natural, poor
soul. It was a temptation to deal with her.
2d Peas. Thou didst cheat her shockingly, Frank, time o' the
famine, on those nine sacks of maslin meal.


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