Lifes

I like to paint still lifes.

He paints still lifes.

My lifes Cataſtrophe is at an end, / The Staffe whereon my ſickly Loue did leane / And which from falling (ſtill) did him defend, / Is through miſchance in ſunder broken cleane. / Gone is my Mediatrix, my beſt Aduocate, / Who vſde for me to interceſsionate.

Duncane is in his Graue: After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he ſleepes well, Treaſon ha's done his worſt: not Steele, not Poyſon, Mallice domeſtique, forraine Leuie, nothing, Can touch him further.

The heavy hand of the high Thunderer Shall light on thee; and thou I doubt ſhalt be His Furies object, and ſhalt teſtifie By thine infamous lifes accurſed ſtate, VVhat now thy ſhame-leſs lips ſophiſticate.