Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak? hear? Know man from man? dispute his own estate?* Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing, But what he did being childish? Flo. No, good sir; He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, Pol. By my white beard, You offer him, if this be so, a wrong Something unfilial. Reason, my son, Should choose himself a wife; but as good reason, But fair posterity) should hold some counsel RURAL SIMPLICITY. I was not much afeard; for once or twice LOVE CEMENTED BY PROSPERITY, BUT LOOSENED BY Prosperity's the very bond of love; Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together ACT V. WONDER, PROCEEDING FROM SUDDEN JOY. There was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed. A notable passion of wonder appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if the im *Talk over his affairs. portance* were joy or sorrow: but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be. 'A STATUE. What was he that did make it?-See, my lord, Would you not deem it breath'd? and that those veins Did verily bear blood? Pol. Masterly done: The very life seems warm upon her lip. Leon. The fixture of her eye has motion in't† As we are mock'd with art. Still, methinks, There is an air comes from her. What fine chisel A WIDOW COMPARED TO A TURTLE. I, an old Turtle, Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and there Lament till I am lost. *The thing imported. †I. e. Though her eye be fixed, it seems to have motion in it. +As if. THE BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. PART II. HISTORICAL PLAYS, CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED. ** King John. ACT I. NEW TITLES. GOOD den, sir Richard,-God-a-mercy-fellow;- For your conversion. Now your traveller,- And talking of the Alps and Appennines, The Pyrenean, and the river Po,) It draws toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipful society, *Good evening. † Respectful. My travelled fop. +Change of condition. ||Catechism. And fits the mounting spirit, life myself: ACT II. DESCRIPTION OF ENGLAND. That pale, that white-faced shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, And confident from foreign purposes, DESCRIPTION OF AN ENGLISH ARMY. His marches are expedient* to this town, His forces strong, his soldiers confident. With him along is come the mother-queen, An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain; With them a Bastard of the king deceased: And all the unsettled humours of the land,-Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,— Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, To make a hazard of new fortunes here. In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits, Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er, Did never float upon the swelling tide, To do offence and scath in Christendom. The interruption of their churlish drums Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand. * Immediate, expeditious. †The goddess of revenge. + Mischief. COURAGE. By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavour for defence; For courage mounteth with occasion. A BOASTER. What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears With this abundance of superfluous breath? DESCRIPTION OF VICTORY BY THE FRENCH, You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in; Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made 'Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground: Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; And victory, with little loss, doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French; Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd To enter conquerors. VICTORY DESCRIBED BY THE ENGLISH. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells; King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day! Their armours, that march'd hence so silver bright, Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; There stuck no piume in any English crest, That is removed by a staff of France; Our colours do return in those same hands That did display them when we first march'd forth; A COMPLETE LADY. If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, |