Bisque
Bisque is a fired piece (bisquette) of unglazed clay used to make pottery, figurines, dolls, knickknacks, ornaments etc. This porous, vitreous ceramic can be created using heat, which causes a chemical reaction (dehydroxylation) in clay (e.g. kaolinite) to irreversibly change:1. Unearth or procure clay and mold, form, turn, wedge, cast or sculpt into the desired shape. Avoid air pockets.
2. Wrap the piece in plastic wrap and set in a moist environment for several days. Once air-dried, the clay piece is called greenware.
3. Apply no glaze. Place the greenware into a kiln similar furnace and fire for about three days, a) dry the piece at a low temperature for about 12 hours, b)then fire the piece to approximately 1800 to 2260F (1000 to 1238C) for another day, c) and allow the bisquette to cool to a safe handling temperature of 150F (65C).
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Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD,
Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids us pause,
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
WARWICK.
For, though before his face I speak.html">speak the words,
And whereso'er he is he's surely dead.html">dead.
[Clifford groans and dies.]
EDWARD.
A deadly groan, like life and death.html">death.html">death's departing.
EDWARD.
If friend or foe, let him be gently us'd.
RICHARD.
Who, not contented that he lopp'd the branch,
But set his murthering knife unto the root
I mean our princely father.html">father.html">father, Duke of York.
WARWICK.
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there;
measure.html">Measure for measure must be answered.
EDWARD.
That nothing sung but death to us and ours;
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
[Soldiers bring the body forward.]
WARWICK.
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?--
And he nor.html">nor sees nor hears us, what we say.
RICHARD.
'T is but his policy to counterfeit,
Which in the time of death he gave our father.
GEORGE.
Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.
EDWARD.
Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
GEORGE.
Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
EDWARD.
Where's Captain Margaret to fence you now?
WARWICK.
What! not an oath? nay then, the world goes hard
I know by that he's dead; and, by my.
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