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"We are ne'er like angels till our passions die"

DEKKER

"This wretched INN, where we scarce stay to bait,

We call our DWELLING-PLACE:

We call one STEP A RACE:

But angels in their full enlightened state,

Angels, who LIVE, and knohat 'tis to BE,

Who all the nonsense of our language see,

Who speak THINGS, and our WORDS,their ill-drawn

PICTURES, scorn,

When we, by a foolish figure, say,

BEHOLD AN OLD MAN DEAD! then they

Speak properly, and cry, BEHOLD A MAN-CHILD BORN!"

COWLEY

I was dead, and right content I lay in ht, and the lady I loved, wept over ht, "I rushed ast them like a madman I hewed

them down like brushwood Their swords battered on h to my friend He was dead But he had

throttled the monster, and I had to cut the handful out of its throat,

before I could disengage and carry off his body They dared not ht him back"