Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me;
We have been down together in my sleep,
Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And waked half dead with nothing.

ACT V.

THE SEASON OF SOLICITATION.

He was not taken well; he had not dined: The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt

To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood
With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls
Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'llwatch him,
Till he be dieted to my request.

OBSTINATE RESOLUTION.

My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! All bond and privilege of nature, break!

Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.

What is that curt'sey worth? or those doves' eyes,
Which can make gods forsworn?—I melt, and am not
Of stronger earth than others.-My mother bows;
As if Olympus to a molehill should

In supplication nod: and my young boy

Hath an aspect of intercession, which

Great nature cries, 'Deny not.'-Let the Volces
Plough Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never
Be such a gosling* to obey instinct; but stand,
As if a man were author of himself,

And knew no other kin.

RELENTING TENDERNESS.

Like a dull actor now,

* A young goose.

I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh,
Forgive my tyranny; but do not say,

For that, 'Forgive our Romans.'—O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now, by the jealous queen* of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.-You gods, I prate,
And the most noble mother of the world
Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i'the earth;
Of thy deep duty more impression shew
Than that of common sons.

CHASTITY.

The noble sister of Publicola,

The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle,
That's curded by the frost from purest snow,
And hangs on Dian's temple; dear Valeria!
CORIOLANUS'S PRAYER FOR HIS SON.

The god of soldiers,

With the consent of supreme Jove, inform

Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove
To shame invulnerable, and stick i'the wars

Like a great sea mark, standing every flaw,t
And saving those that eye thee !

VOLUMNIA'S PATHETIC SPEECH TO HER SON,
CORIOLANUS.

Think with thyself,

How more unfortunate than all living women

Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which should
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,
Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow;
Making the mother, wife, and child, to see

The son, the husband, and the father, tearing
His country's bowels out.
And to poor we,

* Juno.

† Gust, storm.

Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort
That all but we enjoy.

An evident calamity, though we had

Our wish, which side should win: for either thou
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led

With manacles through our streets, or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin;
And bear the palm, for having bravely shed
Thy wife and chiidren's blood. For myself, son,
I propose not to wait on fortune, till

These wars determine:* if I cannot persuade thee,
Rather to shew a noble grace to both parts,

Than to seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy country, than to tread
(Trust to't, thou shalt not) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world.

PEACE AFTER A SIEGE.

Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance.

Cymbeline.

ACT I.

PARTING LOVERS.

Imo. THOU shouldst have made him

As little as a crow, or less, ere left
To after-eye him.

* Conclude.

Imo. I would have broke my eye-strings; crack'd To look upon him; till the diminution

[them, but

Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle:
Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from

The smallness of a gnat to air; and then

Have turn'd mine eye and wept.-But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him?

Pisa.

With his next 'vantange,*

Be assured, madam,

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours,

Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray

Mine interest and his honour; or have charg'd him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, To encounter me with orisons,† for then

I am in heaven for him; or ere I could

Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father,
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north,
Shakes all our buds from growing.

THE BASENESS OF FALSEHOOD TO A WIFE.

Doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Than to be sure they do: for certainties
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing,
The remedy then born; discover to me

What both you spur and stop.‡

Had I this cheek

Iach.
To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch,
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul

* Opportunity.

Meet me with reciprocal prayer.

What you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold.

To the oath of loyalty; this object, which
Takes pris'ner the wild motion of mine eye,
Fixing it only here; should I (damn'd then)
Slaver with lips'as common as the stairs
That mount the Capitol: join gripes with hands
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as
With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye,
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit,
That all the plagues of hell should at one time
Encounter such revolt.

ACT II.

SCENE. A Bedchamber; in one part of it a Trunk.
Imogen reading in her bed; a Lady attending.

Imo. Mine eyes are weak:

Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed:
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly.

To your protection, I commend me, gods!
From fairies, and the tempters of the night,
Guard me, beseech ye!

[Exit Lady.

[Sleeps. Iachimo, from the Trunk.

Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense

Repairs itself by rest: our Tarquin thus

Did softly press the rushes,* ere he waken'd

The chastity he wounded.-Cytherea,

How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily!
And whiter than the sheets! that I might touch!
But kiss, one kiss !-rubies unparagon'd,
How dearly they do't.-'Tis her breathing that
Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper

* It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with rushes.