The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras Who by Treachery and Poison blasted the incomparable Beauty of Divine Parthenia: Inter-woven with the History of Amoronzo and Celania. By John Quarles |
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 | The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras |  |
I must confess, reply'd the Goaler, I
Hate fighting with a true sincerity,
Except I am enforc'd, and then I show
No mercy, for I kill at every blow;
And had that proud, and vap'ring Rascal stay'd
A little, till my fear had been allay'd,
You should have seen with what a dext'rous ski'l
I would have wrought the Traytor to my will,
Nor do not think my fear did wholly rise
From cowardise, but from a quick surprise:
Man were not Man, except he were inclin'd
To feel the several passions of the mind,
As love, and fear, which often discontents
The mind with several obvious accidents;
Then blame me not; he's valiant can abide,
When danger tells him that he must be try'd;
But now he's gon, Nor will I so much strain
My Valour, as to wish him back again:
But now (my Lord) occasion does invite
After this storm, to take a fresh delight:
Let's haste away, for now our time draws on,
My Lord, forget your passion, let's be gon;
Away they went into the Coach, and eas'd
('Tis hard to judge which was the better pleas'd)
Their trembling limbs, where for a little space
We'l leave them, and return unto the place
From whence they came; I hope the Reader will
Pardon a small digression; whilst my Quill
Steps to Corinda's Bowr, and enquire
Of several passages, and then retire:
Hate fighting with a true sincerity,
Except I am enforc'd, and then I show
No mercy, for I kill at every blow;
And had that proud, and vap'ring Rascal stay'd
A little, till my fear had been allay'd,
You should have seen with what a dext'rous ski'l
I would have wrought the Traytor to my will,
Nor do not think my fear did wholly rise
From cowardise, but from a quick surprise:
Man were not Man, except he were inclin'd
To feel the several passions of the mind,
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The mind with several obvious accidents;
Then blame me not; he's valiant can abide,
When danger tells him that he must be try'd;
But now he's gon, Nor will I so much strain
My Valour, as to wish him back again:
But now (my Lord) occasion does invite
After this storm, to take a fresh delight:
Let's haste away, for now our time draws on,
My Lord, forget your passion, let's be gon;
Away they went into the Coach, and eas'd
('Tis hard to judge which was the better pleas'd)
Their trembling limbs, where for a little space
We'l leave them, and return unto the place
From whence they came; I hope the Reader will
Pardon a small digression; whilst my Quill
Steps to Corinda's Bowr, and enquire
Of several passages, and then retire:
| The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras | |