![]() ![]() Roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o’ersizèd with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks. ![]() Head to foot Now is he total gules, horridly tricked With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Baked and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and damnèd light To their lord’s murder. It begins with Pyrrhus- The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couchèd in the ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smeared With heraldry more dismal. If it live in your memory, begin at this line-Let me see, let me see- The rugged Pyrrhus, like th’ Hyrcanian beast- It is not so. ‘Twas Aeneas’ tale to Dido and thereabout of it, especially where he speaks of Priam’s slaughter. I remember, one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savory, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation, but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. ![]() But it was-as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine-an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. Or, if it was, not above once, for the play, I remember, pleased not the million. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted. ![]()
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