If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
THE FRIEND'S REBUKE.
CASSIUS. Have you not love enough to bear with me,
When that rash humour, which my mother gave
Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth,
When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you
JULIUS CESAR, A. 4, s. 3.
THE GAME OF LIFE.
ALL the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits, and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms:
And then, the whining school-boy, with his
satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school: And then the lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow: Then a soldier;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice;
In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every
thing.
AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 2, s. 7.
THE GODS SEE FARTHER THAN
POMPEY. If the great gods be just, they
That what they do delay, they not deny.
POM. Whiles we are suitors to their throne,
We, ignorant of ourselves,
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit,
By losing of our prayers.
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 2, s. 1.
PROPHECY.
LET me speak, sir,
For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth.
This royal infant, (heaven still move about her!)
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upon this land a thousand, thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be
(But few now living can behold that goodness,)
A pattern to all princes living with her,
And all that shall succeed: Sheba was never
More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue,
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall bless her:
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows
with her:
In her days, every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours :
God shall be truly known; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her: But as
when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,)
Who from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour, and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him: -Our children's
Shall see this, and bless heaven.
She shall be, to the happiness of England,
An aged princess; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
'Would I had known no more! but she must
She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily shall she pass
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
K. HENRY VIII., A. 5, 8. 4.
THE GOOD KING'S RECEPTION
OF HIS BRIDE.
WELCOME, queen Margaret:
I can express no kinder sign of love,
Than this kind kiss.-O Lord, that lends me
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness !
For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face,
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
Her sight did ravish: but her grace in speech,
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
Makes me, from wondering, fall to weeping joys;
Such is the fulness of my heart's content.-
Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love.
K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 1, s. 1.
THE GOOD MAID'S PRAYER. LET me give light, but let me not be light; For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, And never be Bassanio so for me;
But God sort all!-You are welcome home, my lord.
MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 5, s. 1.
THE GOOD OFT PRESERVED BY
THEIR INSTINCT.
WHAT, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me?
Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;
And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first-conceived sound?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words.
Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say;
Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting.
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!
Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny
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