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Audit the end: How can humanity,
Preferved be in ruin of mankind?
Both fear and courage feel her cruelty,
The good and bad, like fatal ruin find:
Her enemies do ftill provide her food,
From thofe fhe ruins, fhe receives her good.

Lord Brooke of Wars.
Scipio, advanced like the god of blood,

Leads up grim war, that father of foul wounds,

Whose finewy feet are steep'd in gore, whofe hideous voice

Makes turrets tremble, and whole cities shake;

Before whofe brows, flight and disorder hurry,
With whom march burnings, murder, wrong, waft,

rapes;

Behind whom, a fad train is feen, woe, fears,
Torture, lean need, famine, and helpless tears.

Marfton's Sophonisba.

For all the murders, rapes, and thefts,
Committed in the horrid luft of war,
He that unjustly caus'd it firft proceed,
Shall find it in his grave, and in his feed.

Webster's White Devil.
Some sharp their fwords, fome right their morions fet,
Their greaves and pouldrons others rivet fast,

The archers now their bearded arrows whet,

Whilst ev'ry where the clam'rous drums are brac'd;
Some taking view where they fure ground might get,
Not one, but fome advantage doth forecast :
With ranks and files each plain and meadow swarms,
As all the land were clad in angry arms.

Drayton's Barons Wars.

All wars are bad yet all wars do good;

And, like to furgeons, let fick kingdoms blood.

Dekker's Second Part of the Honeft Whore.

He is unwife that to a market goes,

Where there is nothing to be fold but blows.

Aleyn's Henry VII.

Thefe

Thefe fair exordiums are the ways to win,
It is war's rhet'rick bravely to begin,

Aleyn's Poitiers:

Nor is it wifdom where no treafons are,
To hope for fuccour from a ftrange fupply:
Money's the nerve and ligament of war,

In makes them fight, and keeps from mutiny.
Leaders are fouls, armies the bodies, coin
The vital fpirits that do both combine.

The fubject's large,

Aleyn's Crefcey.

Nor can we there too much difpute, where, when
We err, 'tis at a kingdom's charges; peace
And war are in themselves indifferent,

And time doth ftamp them either good or bad:
But here the place is much confiderable;
War in our own, is like to too much heat
Within, it makes the body fick; when in
Another country, 'tis but exercife,
Conveys that heat abroad, and gives it health.

Suckling's Brennoralt.

Ceflation for fhort times in war, are like
Small fits of health, in defp'rate maladies:
Which while the inftant pain feems to abate,
Flatters into debauch and worse estate.

Ibid.

Though war's great shape beft educates the fight,
And makes fmall foft'ning objects lefs our care;
Yet war, when urg'd for glory, more than right,
Shews victors, but authentick murd'rers are.
Sir W, Davenant's Gondibert.
How various are th' effects of war!

What fury rules

O'er human fenfe, that we should struggle to
Deftroy in mangled wounds, our life, which
Heav'n decreed fo fhort? It is a mystery,
Too fad to be remember'd by the wife,

That

That half mankind confume their noble blood
In caufes not belov'd, or understood.

Sir W. Davenant's Love and Honour.

To broach a war, and not to be affur'd
Of certain means to make a fair defence,
Howe're the ground be juft, may justly seem
A wilful madness.

Hemmings's Jews Tragedy.
1. I ne'er thought fame a lawful cause of war.
2. Wars are good phyfick, when the world is fick:
But he, who cuts the throats of men for glory,
Is a vain favage fool; he ftrives to build
Immortal honours upon man's mortality:
And glory on the shame of human nature,
Το prove himself a man by inhumanity:
He puts whole kingdoms in a blaze of war,
Only to ftill mankind into a vapour;
Emptys the world to fill an idle story:

In fhort, I know not why he should be honour'd,
And they that murder men for money hang'd.

Crown's Ambitious Statesman.

War, is the harveft fir, of all ill men :

In war, they may be brutes with reputation.

WHORE.

A hufwife, that, by felling her defires,

Buys her felf bread and cloth. It is a creature
That dotes on Caffio; as 'tis the ftrumpet's plague
To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one.

"Tis there civility to be a whore;

Ibid.

Shakespear's Othello.

He's one of blood and fashion! and with thefe
The bravery makes, fhe can no honour leefe.

To do't with cloth, or ftuffs, luft's name might merit;
With velvet, plush, and tiffues, it is fpirit!

Johnson's Underwoods. Farewell thou private ftrumpet, worse than common; Man were on earth an angel, but for woman!

That

grow;

That feven-fold branch of hell from them doth
Pride, luft, and murther, they raise from below,
With all their fellow fins. Women were made

Of blood, without fouls: when their beauties fade,
And their luft's past, avarice or bawdery
Makes them still lov'd: then they buy venery,
Bribing damnation, and hire brothel flaves;
Shame's their executors, infamy their graves.

Marfton's Infatiate Countess.

Alas, good creatures! what would you have them do ?
Would you have them get their living by the
Curfe of man, the sweat of their brows? fo they
Do, every man must follow his trade,

And every woman her occupation :
A poor decayed mechanical man's

Wife, her husband is lay'd up, may not fhe
Lawfully be lay'd down, when her husband's
Only rifing is by his wife's falling?

A captain's wife wants means, her commander
Lies in open field abroad, may not fhe
Lie in civil arms at home? a waiting
Gentlewoman, that had wont to take, say,
To her lady, miscarrys, or fo; the

Court misfortune throws her down, may not the
City courtesy take her up? do you know
No alderman would pity fuch a woman's
Cafe? why is charity grown a fin, or
Relieving the poor and impotent an
Offence? you will fay beasts take no money
For their fleshly entertainment; true, because
They are beafts, and therefore beaftly; only men
Give to loofe, because they are men, therefore
Manly; and indeed, wherein should they bestow
Their money better? in land, the title
May be crack'd; in houses, they may be burnt;
In apparrel, 'twill wear; in wine, alas for pity,
Our throat is but fhort: but employ your money
Upon women, and a thousand to nothing,

Some

Some one of them will bestow that upon you,
Which shall stick by you as long you live:
They are no ingrateful perfons, they will

Give you quid for quo: do you proteft, they'll fwear;
Do you rife, they'll fall, do you fall, they'll rife?
Do you give them the French crown, they'll give
You the French-
Ojuftus, jufta, juftum.

They fell their bodies; do not better perfons

Sell their fouls? nay, fince all things have been fold,
Honour, juftice, faith, nay ev'n God himself,
Ay me, what base ignobleness is it

To fell the pleafures of a wanton bed?

Why do men scrape, why heaps to full heaps join?
But for his mistress, who would care for coin?
For this I hold to be deny'd of no man,

All things are made for man, and man for woman.

Marfion's Dutch Courtezan.

Who keeps a harlot, tell him this from me,
He needs nor thief, disease, or enemy.
Middleton's Mad World my
Stand forth-thou one of thofe,

Mafters.

For whofe close lufts the plague ne'er leaves the city.
Thou, worse than common; private, subtle harlot,
Thou doeft deceive three with one feigned lip;
Thy husband, the world's eye, and the law's whip:
Thy zeal is hot, for 'tis to luft and fraud,
And doft not dread to make thy book thy bawd.
Thou'rt curfe enough to husbands ill got gains,
For whom the court rejects, his gold maintains.
How dear and rare was freedom wont to be?
How few but are by their wives copies free,
And brought to fuch a head, that now we fee,
City and fuburbs wear one livery.

Middleton's Phanix.
Our term ends once a month; we should get more
Than the lawyers, for they have but four terms
A year, and we have twelve, that makes them
Run fo faft to us in the vacation.

Middleton's Michaelmas Term.

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