10. While the trumpets bray, and the cymbals ring,
"Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"
Now what cometh? Look, look! Without menace or call,
Who writes with the lightning's bright hand on the wall?
What pierceth the king like the point of a dart?
What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart?
"Chaldæans, magicians! the letters expound."
They are read; and Belshazzar is dead on the ground!
11. Sir P.—'Slife, madam! I say, had you any of these
little elegant expenses when you married me?
Lady T.—Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out
of the fashion?
Sir P.—The fashion, indeed! What had you to do
with the fashion before you married me?
Lady T.—For my part, I should think you would like
to have your wife thought a woman of taste.
Sir P.—Ay, there again! Taste! Zounds, madam!
you had no taste when you married me.
Lady T.—That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter; and,
after having married you, I should never pretend to taste
again, I allow.
12. "And what the meed?" at length Tell asked.
"Bold fool! when slaves like thee are tasked,
It is my will;
But that thine eye may keener be,
And nerved to such nice archery,
If thou succeed'st, thou goest free.
What! pause ye still?
Give him a bow and arrow there:
One shaft,—but one." Madness, despair,
And tortured love,
One moment swept the Switzer's face;
Then passed away each stormy trace,
And high resolve reigned like a grace
Caught from above.
13. Bass.—Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
Shy.—To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there.