Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses, and record my woes. O, thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall, And leave no memory of what it was; Repair me with thy presence, Sylvia: Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain.
§ 14. THE WINTER'S TALE. SHAKSPEARE.
Youthful Friendship and Innocence. WE were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal.
[sun, We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' th' And bleat the one at th' other; what we chang'd,
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing; nor dream'd, That any did had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd, With stronger blood we should have answer'd
Boldly-" Not guilty ;" the imposition clear'd, Hereditary ours.
How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness: and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms!
A Father's Fondness for his Child.
Leon. Are you so fond of your young prince [as we
Do seem to be of ours?
Pol. If at home, Sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter: Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: He makes a July's day short as December: And, with his varying childness, cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood. Faithful Service.
Cam. In your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilful negligent, It was my folly if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end if ever fearful To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest; these, my lord, Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty Is never free of.
Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift?
|Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all
[only Blind with the pin and web, but theirs, theirs That would, unseen, be wicked? Is this nothing? [nothing; Why, then the world, and all that 's in 't, is Thy covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; [nothings, My wife is nothing: nor nothing have these If this be nothing.
The Silence of Innocence eloquent. The silence often of pure innocence Persuades, when speaking fails.
Affectionate Child.
To see his nobleness!
Conceiving the dishonor of his mother, He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply: Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on 't in himself! Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, And downright languish'd.
Child resembling his Father. Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip, The trick of his frown, his forehead: nay the valley, [smiles; The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger : [made it And thou, good goddess nature, which hast So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colors
No yellow in 't ; lest she suspect, as he does,
Her children not her husband's !
Hermione pleading her Innocence. If pow'rs divine Behold our human actions (as they do), I doubt not then, but innocence shall make False accusation blush, and tyranny Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know (Who will seem least to do so) my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than history can pattern, though devis'd, And play'd to take spectators; for behold A fellow of the royal bed, which owe [me,A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince,-here standing,
To prate and talk of life, and honor, 'fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it [honor, As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, Sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace, How merited to be so; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honor: or, in act, or will, That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin Cry, fie, upon my grave!
A Wife's Loss of all Things dear, and Con- tempt of Death.
Leo. Look for no less than death.
Her. Sir, spare your threats;
An Infant exposed. Poor wretch,
That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd To loss, and what may follow! Weep I can- not,
But my heart bleeds and most accurs'd am I, To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell! The day frowns more and more; thou art like to have
The bug, which you would fright me with, IA lullaby too rough: I never saw
To me can life be no commodity;
The crown and comfort of my life, your favor, I do give lost; for I do feel it gone, But know not how it went. My second joy, And first-fruits of my body, from his presence I am barr'd like one infectious: my third comfort,
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast, The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, Haled out to murther: Myself on every post Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred, The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs To women of all fashion: lastly, hurried Here to this place, i' the open air, before I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, Tell me what blessings I have here alive, That I should fear to die; therefore proceed. But yet hear this, mistake me not,-no; life, I prize it not a straw: but for mine honor, (Which I would free) if I shall be condemn'd, Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else, But what your jealousies awake; I tell you, "Tis rigor, and not law.
An Account of a Ghost's appearing in a
I have heard (but not believ'd), the spirits of the dead.
May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another; I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd, and so becoming; in pure white robes Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me, And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon Did this break from her: "Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better disposition, Hath made thy person for the thrower out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath ; Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep, and leave it crying: and, for the Is counted lost for ever, Perdita [babe I pr'ythee call it for this ungentle business, Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more." And so with shrieks, She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself, and thought This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys:
Yet, for this once, yea superstitiously, I will be squar'd by this.
VOL. VI. Nos. 83 & 84.
The heavens so dim by day.
Mistress of the Sheep-shearing.
Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd, upon
This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook; Both dame, and servant; welcom'd all;
Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; On his shoulder, and his her face o' fire [it, With labor; and the thing she took to quench She would to each one sip: you are retir'd, As if you were a feasted one, and not The hostess of the meeting. Pray you, These unknown friends to us welcome, for it is A way to make us better friends, more known, Come quench your blushes and present your
That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, As your good flock shall prosper.
A Garland for old Men. Per. Reverend Sirs,
For you there's rosemary, and rue: these keep Seeming, and savor, all the winter long ; Grace, and remembrance, be unto you both, And welcome to our shearing!
(A fair one are you) well you fit our ages [With flowers of winter.
They call him Doricles ; and he boasts himTo have a worthy feeding: but I have it [self Upon his own report, and I believe it;
Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly- He looks like sooth: he says he loves my And do not call them bastards.
A Garland for a middle aged Man. Per. The dibble in earth, to set one slip of them; No more than were I painted, I would wish This youth should say, 'twere well; and only Desire to breed by me.[therefore
Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; The marygold that goes to bed with the sun, And with him rises, weeping; these are flowers Of middle summer; and, I think, they are To men of middle age, [given
A Garland for Young Men. Cam. I should leave grazing, were I And only live by gazing.
You'd be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fairest friend,
I would I had some flowers o' the spring, that might
[yours; Become your time of day; and yours, and That wear upon your virgin-branches yet
I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water, as he 'll stand, and read, As 't were my daughter's eyes and, to be plain, I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, Who loves another best.
Presents little regarded by real Lovers. Pol. How now, fair shepherd ? Your heart is full of something that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young,
And handed love as you do, I was wont To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd'
The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it To her acceptance: you have let him go, And nothing marted with him. If your lass Interpretation should abuse, and call this Your lack of love, or bounty, you were straited For a reply, at least, if you make care Of happy holding her.
She prizes not such trifles as those are : The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd
Your maiden-heads growing :-O, Proserpina, Up in my heart; which I have given already, For the flow'rs now, that, frighted, thou lett'st But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my From Dis's waggon! daffodils
That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty, violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of; and, my sweet To strew him o'er and o'er. [friend,
Fol. What like a corse? Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on ;
Not like a corse: or if-not to be buried, But quick and in mine arms."
Before this ancient Sir, who, it should seem, Hath sometime lov'd; I take thy hand; this hand
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it, Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er. Tender Affection.
Were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve; had force, and knowledge [them, More than was ever man's-I would not prize Without her love for her, employ them all; Commend them, and condemn them to her Or to their own perdition.
Widow compared to a Turtle. I an old turtle,
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong Something unfilial: reason, my son, [reason, Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and Should choose himself a wife; but as good My mate, that's never to be found again, The father (all whose joy is nothing else But fair posterity) should hold some counsel In such a business.
I was not much afeard: for once or twice, I was about to speak and tell him plainly, The self-same sun that shines upon his court Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on all alike,
Prosperity the Bond, Affliction the Looser, of Love.
Prosperity 's the very bond of love, [gether Whose fresh complexion and whose heart to- Affliction alters.
Love more rich for what it gives. Leo. I might have look'd upon my queen's full eye;
Have taken treasure from her lips
Pau. And left them
More rich, for what they yielded.
A captivating Woman.
This is a creature,
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal Of all professors else; make proselytes Of who she but bid follow.
Anguish of Recollection for a lost Friend.
Pr'ythee no more; cease; thou know'st, He dies to me again, when talk'd of: sure, When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches Will bring me to consider that, which may Unfurnish me of reason.
What was he, that did make it? See, my lord, [those veins Would you not deem it breath'd? and that Did verily bear blood? Masterly done:
The very life seems warm upon her lip. The fixture of her eye has motion in 't, As we were mock'd with art.
Still, methinks, [chisel There is an air comes from her: What fine Could ever yet cut breath ?-Let no man mock For I will kiss her. [me,
Affliction to a penitent Mind pleasing. Pau. I am sorry, Sir, I have thus far stirr'd But I could afflict you further.
For this affliction has a taste as sweet As any cordial comfort.
§ 15. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. SHAKSPEARE.
Great Minds respect Truth.
Mes. The nature of bad news infects the teller. [ard.-On: Ant. When it concerns the fool or cow- Things that are past are done, with me-'tis thus:
Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flatter'd. [tongue; Speak to me home, mince not the general Name Cleopatra as she 's call'd in Rome : Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults [malice With such full license, as both truth and Have pow'r to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds [told us, When our quick winds lie still, and our ills Is as our earing.,
Cleopatra's contemptuous Raillery.
Nay, pray you, seek no color for your going, But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: no going then- Eternity was in our lips and eyes; [poor, Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so But was a race of heaven: they are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier in the world, Art turn'd the greatest liar.
Cleopatra's anxious Tenderness. Ant. I'll leave you, lady.
Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part-but that's not it: Sir, you and I have lov'd-but there's not it ;- That you know well : something it is I would- O, my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all-forgotten.
Cleopatra's Wishes for Antony on Parting. Your honor calls you hence; Therefore be deaf to my unpity'd folly, And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword
Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success Be strew'd before your feet!
Antony's Vices and Virtues. Lep. I must not think [ness There are evils enough to darken all his good- His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change, Than what he chooses.
Cas. You are too indulgent. Let us grant it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet [becomes him, With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this (As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Antony
No way excuse his foils, when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, Call on him for 't: but to confound such time, That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
Say, "The firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent throne with kingdoms: all the east, [nodded, Say thou, shall call her mistress." So he And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have Was beastly dumb'd by him. [spoke
Cleo. What, was he sad, or merry? Ale. Like to the time o' th' year, between the extremes
Of hot and cold; he was nor sad or merry. Cleo. O well-divided disposition !-Note him, [note him,
As his own state and ours-'tis to be chid As we rate boys, who, being mature in know- Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but ledge, [sure, He was not sad; for he would shine on those Pawn their experience to their present plea-That make their looks by his; he was not And so rebel to judgment. [lay Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance [once In Egypt with his joy: but between both : Leave thy lascivious wassels. When thou O heavenly mingle!-Be'st thou sad or merry, Wert beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st The violence of either thee becomes; Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel So does it no man else. } Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
[Alps, The barks of trees thou browsed'st: on the It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh, Which some did die to look on and all this (It wounds thine honor that I speak it now) Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek So much as lank'd not.
Cleopatra on the absence of Antony. O Charmian, [sits he? Where think'st thou he is now ? stands he? or Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of man. He's speaking now, Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old For so he calls me; now I feed myself [Nile ?" With most delicious poison: think on me. That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black; And wrinkled deep in time! Broad-fronted Cæsar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect, and die With looking on his life.
Antony's Love and Dissipation. Are Good friend, quoth he,
The Vanity of human Wishes. Pom. If the great gods be just, they shall The deeds of justest men.
Men. Know, worthy Pompey, That what they do delay, they not deny. Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, The thing we sue for. [decays
Men. We, ignorant of ourselves, [pow'rs Beg often our own harms, which the wise Deny us for our good; so find we profit, By losing of our prayers.
|Description of Cleopatra's Sailing down the Cydnus.
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that [gold, The winds were love-sick with them: th' oars were silver : [made Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and The water which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own It beggar'd all description: she did lie [person, In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue), O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy out-work nature. On each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cu- pids,
With divers-color'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did And what they undid, did. [cool,
Agr. O rare for Antony!
Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids, So many mermaids, tended her i' th' eyes, And made their bends adornings. At the helm,
A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flow'r-soft hands
That yarely frame the office. From the barge
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