Of such a misery doth she cut me off.
Commend me to your honourable wife;
Tell her the process of Antonio's end;
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;
And when the tale is told, bid her be judge,
Whether Bassanio had not once a love.
Repent not you that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not that he pays your debt;
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,

I'll

pay it instantly with all my heart.

DISCONTENT,-UNEASINESS.

ORLANDO DISCONTENTED WITH HIS BROTHER.

As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeath'd me :-By will, but a poor thousand crowns; and as thou say'st, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. My brother Jacques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit; for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept: for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired; but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides, this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me, his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

COMPLAINT.

THE EVILS OF GREATNESS.

O hard condition! Twin-born with greatness,

Subjected to the breath of every fool,

Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing!

What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect,

That private men enjoy?

And what have kings, that privates have not too,

Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?

What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? What are thy comings-in ?
O ceremony, shew me but thy worth!

What is the soul of adoration?

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd,
Than they in fearing.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,

And bid thy ceremony give thee cure ?
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?

Can'st thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose,
I am a king that find thee; and I know
"Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave;
Who with a body fill'd, and vacant mind,

Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell;
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set,
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn,
Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse;
And follows so the ever running year
With profitable labour, to his grave,
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,

Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and 'vantage of a king.

The slave, a member of the country's peace,
Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots,

What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace,
Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

COMPLAINT OF SLAVERY.

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,

Might never reach me more. My ear is pain'd,
My soul is sick with ev'ry day's report

Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart,

It does not feel for man; the natural bond
Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax,
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin

Not colour'd like his own; and having pow'r
To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,
Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey,
Lands intersected by a narrow frith
Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd
Make enemies of nations, who had else
Like kindred drops been mingled into one.

Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;
And, worse than all, and most to be deplor'd
As human nature's broadest, foulest blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat
With stripes, that mercy with a bleeding heart
Weeps, when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man? And what man seeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush,
And hang his head, to think himself a man;
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep,
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
No: dear as freedom is, and in my heart's
Just estimation priz'd above all price,
I had much rather be myself the slave,
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him.
We have no slaves at home-then, why abroad?
And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave
That parts us, are emancipate and loos'd.
Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
Receive our air, that moment they are free;
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
That's noble! and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through every vein
Of all your empire; that, where Britain's pow'r
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.-Cowper.

COMPLAINT, WITH BODILY PAIN.

COMPLAINING, as when one is under violent bodily pain, distorts the features; almost closes the eyes; sometimes raises them wishfully; opens the mouth; gnashes with the teeth; draws up the upper lip; pulls down the head upon the breast; and the whole body together. The arms are violently bent at the elbows, and the fists strongly clenched. The voice is uttered in groans, lamentations, and violent screams. Extreme torture produces fainting and death.

KING JOHN SUFFERING WITH FEVER AND POISON.

This fever, that hath troubled me so long,
Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!-
Ah, me! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news,-
Set on towards Swinstead; to my litter straight;
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.
-Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow room;
It would not out at windows, nor at doors,
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust;
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen

Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Do I shrink up.

Poison'd,-ill fare; dead, forsook, cast off;
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold :-I do not ask you much.
I beg cold comfort! and you are so strait,
And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

FATIGUE-WEARINESS.

FATIGUE, from severe exertion, gives a general languor to the whole body. The countenance is dejected (see Grief). The arms hang listless; the body, if sitting or lying along be not the posture, sleeps as in old age (see Dotage). The legs, if walking, are dragged along, and seem at every step ready to bend under the weight of the body. The voice is weak, and the words hardly enough articulated to be understood. Lesser degrees of this feeling require a more moderate expression, as in the following examples:

RICHARD III. IN HIS TENT.

'Tis now the dead of night,

And half the world is in a solemn lonely darkness hung!
Yet I, so coy a dame is sleep to me,

With all the weary courtship of my care-tir'd thoughts,

Can't win her to my couch, though e'en the stars

Do wink as 'twere with over-watching

I'll forth, and walk a while.-(Cibber).

KING HENRY IV. IN HIS LAST ILLNESS.
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! Sleep, gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber;
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O, thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum-bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge,
And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Can'st thou, O partial Sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king?

COMFORTING.-EXHORTING.

COMFORTING requires a kind and soothing accent of voice. The action gentle and tender, and the whole manner correspondent.

ORLANDO COMFORTING ADAM.

Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little; if this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it, or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake, be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's-end; I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I'll give thee leave to die; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour! Well said! thou look'st cheerly; and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air; come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam.

EXHORTING, as by a general at the head of his army, requires a kind complacent look; unless matter of offence has passed, as neglect of duty, or the like.

EDWARD, THE BLACK PRINCE TO HIS SOLDIERS.

COUNTRYMEN,

We're here assembled for the toughest fight
That ever strain'd the force of English arms;
See yon wide field, with glittering numbers gay!
Vain of their strength, they challenge us for slaves,
And bid us yield their prisoners at discretion.
If there's an Englishman among ye all,
Whose soul can basely truckle to such bondage,
Let him depart. For me, I swear by heav'n,
By my great father's soul, and by my fame,
My country ne'er shall pay a ransom for me!
Nor will I stoop to drag out life in bondage,
And take my pittance from a Frenchman's hands:
This I resolve, and hope, brave countrymen,

Ye all resolve the same.

View all yon glitt'ring grandeur as your spoils,
The sure reward of this day's victory.

Strain ev'ry faculty, and let your minds,

Your hopes, your ardours, reach their utmost bounds,

Follow your standards with a fearless spirit;

Follow the great examples of your sires;