A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 07

Fourth Edition
Originally published by Robert Dodsley in the Year 1744.
Now first chronologically arranged, revised and enlarged with the Notes of all the Commentators, and new Notes.
1876.
Tancred And Gismunda The Wounds Of Civil War Mucedorus The Two Angry Women Of Abington Look About You
The Tragedie of Tancred and Gismund. Compiled by the Gentlemen of the Inner Temple, and by them presented before her Maiestie. Newly reuiued and polished according to the decorum of these daies. By R.W. London, Printed by Thomas Scarlet, and are to be solde by R. Robinson, 1591, 4to.
TANCRED. O me alas, nowe do the cruell paines Of cursed death my dere daughter bereave. Alas whie bide I here? the sight constraines Me woefull man this woefull place to leaue.
TANCRED cometh out of GISMOND'S Chamber .
TANCRED. O dolorous happe, ruthefull and all of woe Alas I carefull wretche what resteth me? Shall I now live that with these eyes did soe Beholde my daughter die? what, shall I see Her death before my face that was my lyfe And I to lyve that was her lyves decay? Shall not this hand reache to this hart the knife That maye bereve bothe sight and life away, And in the shadowes darke to seke her ghoste And wander there with her? shall not, alas, This spedy death be wrought, sithe I have lost My dearest ioy of all? what, shall I passe My later dayes in paine, and spende myne age In teres and plaint! shall I now leade my life All solitarie as doeth bird in cage, And fede my woefull yeres with waillfull grefe? No, no, so will not I my dayes prolonge To seke to live one houre sith she is gone: This brest so can not bende to suche a wronge, That she shold dye and I to live alone. No, this will I: she shall have her request And in most royall sorte her funerall Will I performe. Within one tombe shall rest Her earle and she, her epitaph withall Graved thereon shal be. This will I doe And when these eyes some aged teres have shed The tomb my self then will I crepe into And with my blood all bayne their bodies dead. This heart there will I perce, and reve this brest The irksome life, and wreke my wrathful ire Upon my self. She shall have her request, And I by death will purchace my desyre.