Penny Dreadfuls, 1602 · page 64 of 400
Penny Dreadful Cover — page 64: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# What's on This Page This is a page of running prose poetry from *Albion's England*, a historical verse narrative. The text presents a dramatic monologue in which a speaker laments to an absent warrior, describing how combat has changed him—his face now strange, his limbs weakened by armor, his youthful vigor lost. The speaker then despairs that written words cannot convey true emotion as powerfully as tears and sighs could. The passage concludes with a reference to "Doracles" viewing and rejecting these lines, followed by his own written response comparing beauty to honeybees: attractive but armed with stinging consequences.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
. fi . . | 2 ‘ : 4 eA tom 4 wi . had A 7 f a ge , ; “7 ye p em” - cee ‘ALBIONS’ ENGLAND, a | Thea fight as thefe where all things make that all efeape vibarm BrinAT ~ Such manhood is.amertiment: thin gsprefentareregarded:) Nox perillous wounds in warre,but here wars perill isre mia In few,the warres are full of woes, out here euen words of warre _ Have braner grace thé works théfelues,for Courts from Campesbe far, _ Than are the valiaié who more vaine? Than Cowards who more wife >. — Notmen thar traue Tl Pega/us but Fortunes fooles doe rife. i ~ Methinks I fee how churlith lookes eftrange thy cheerefull face,. Methinks thy geftures,talke,& gate, haue changed their wonted grace: | ~ Methinks thy fometimes nimble Limbs with armour nowarelame;: Me thinks I fee how fears deforme where Swords before did maime: Ifee thee faint with Summers heat,and droup with winters cold: Ifee thee not the fame thou art, for young thou feemeft old: fee nor,butmy fouledoth fearc,in fight thonarttoo bold: o I forrow, slaftly to hane feene whom how I wifh to fee, Becaufe I fee loues Oratrefle pleads tedioufly to thee. me If words,nor weepings,loue,nor lines,if eafesnortoyle in fight, May waine thee froma pleafing ill,yet come thou to my fight: “ie Perchance my prefence may-diflwade,or partner(hip delight, — Butwoam I dead paper pleads,a fenceleffe thingofwoe: | _ Tecannot weepe,nor wring the hands,but fay that the did fo: And faicth fo vneredited,or ifjthen thought ofcorfe: Thus thus,becaufenot paffionate,to paper failesremorfe,,. 6... — Orhat my ‘oriefes, my fighes,and teares,might mufter to thy viewe, _ The woes,not words, thé paine,not pen,fhould vouch my. whiting truce, | Yeat fare thou well whofe fare-well brings fuch fare-ill vato me: Thy fare-well lacks ‘awelcomehome jand welcome fhalt thoube. Thefe lines, {ubfcribed with her nanteswhen Doracles did viewe, He was fo far from liking them, that loathing did enfue. : | And, leaft that hope fhould eafe herheart,or he not feeme vnkinde, |. | Inwritten Tables he to herreturned thus his minde. a _. Thebeft of Bees doe beare,befides fweethony,{tnarting ftings, _ And bea utic doth not want a baite that torepentance brings, al gh! a sults} A Re '. \comichoe Content OO Ee — ee hia