For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor; At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears,

Advanc'd their eye-lids, lifted up their noses, As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears, That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd thro' Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns,

Which enter'd their frail skins: at last I left 'em Ith' filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to the chins.

The king,

[may not

[ed;

Fine Sentiment of Humanity on Repentance. Ariel. His brother, and yours, abide all three distractAnd the remainder mourning over them, Brim-full of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly Him that you term'd the good old lord Gonzalo ;

His tears run down his beard, like winter's [drops From eaves of reeds: your charms so strongly work 'em,

That, if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender.

Pros. Dost thou think so, spirit?

Ariel. Mine would, Sir, were I human.
Pros. And mine shall.

With his own bolt: the strong-bas'd promontory

[up Have I made shake: and by the spurs pluck'd The pine and cedar graves at my command Have wak'd their sleepers; oped and let them By my so potent art. [forth Senses returning.

The charm dissolves apace :

And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ign'rant fumes, that mantle
Their clearer reason▬▬
Their understanding
Begins to swell; and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores,
That now lie foul and muddy.

Ariel's Song.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie:

There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly

After sunset merrily:

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Patience.

Alon. Irreparable is the loss; and patience Says, it is past her cure.

Pros. I rather think,

You have not sought her help; of whose soft
[grace,
And rest myself content.
For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid,

§ 12. TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL. SHAKSPEARE.

Music and Love.

If music be the food of love, play on, The appetite may sicken, and so die. Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, That strain again :-it had a dying fall:

art?

Tho' with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,

Yet with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury
Do I take part, the rarer action is [nitent,
In virtue than in vengeance: they being pe-
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown farther.

Fairies and Magic.

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;

And ye, that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, When he comes back; you demy-puppets, that By moon-shine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime

Is to make midnight mushrooms; that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid (Weak masters tho' ye be) I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,

And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak

That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour —Enough; no

more;

'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! So full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.

Love, in reference to Hunting.
O, when my eyes did see Olivia first,
Methought she purg'd the air of pestilence;
That instant was I turn'd into a hart:
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds,
E'er since pursue me.

Natural Affection akin to Love.

O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd

(Her sweet perfections) with one self-king!

And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him; He might have took his answer long ago. Resolved Love.

Oliv. - -Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house: Write royal cantos of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Holla your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me.

Disguise.

Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it, for the proper false

In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas! our frailty is the cause, not we;
For, such as we are made of, such we be.

Serious Music most agreeable to Lovers. Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night: Methought it did relieve my passion much;

More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
True Love.

Duke. Come hither, boy, if ever thou shalt
In the sweet pangs of it remember me: [love,
For such as I am, all true lovers are:
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune?
Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat
Where love is thron'd.

In Love, the Women should be youngest. Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,
Than women's are.

Vio. I think it well, my lord.

[thyself, Duke. Then let thy love be younger than Or thy affection cannot hold the bent : For women are as roses; whose fair flower, Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. Character of an old Song.

Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain :
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread
with bones,

Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love
Like the old age.

Song.
Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypress let me be laid:
Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;

My part of death no one so true
'Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet [thrown: A thousand, thousand sighs to save, My poor corpse, where my bones shall be

Lay me, O where

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
To weep there.

Concealed Love.
Duke. There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's

heart

A Jester.

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well, craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons and the time; And like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice, As full of labour as a wise man's art: For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit; But wise men's folly fall'n quite taints their wit. Flattery, its ill Effects.

My servant, Sir! "Twas never merry world, Since lowly-feigning was call'd compliment. Unsought Love.

Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honor, truth, and every thing, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: But rather reason thus with reason fetter: Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is

better.

Ingratitude.

Ant. Is't possible, that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man, As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you.

Vio. I know of none;

Nor know I you by voice, or any feature:
I hate ingratitude more in a man,

Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption
Inhabits our frail blood.

Deformity in the Mind.

Ant. But O, how vile an idol proves this god! Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature there's no blemish but the mind; None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind: Virtue is beauty; but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o'erflourish'd by the devil. Ignorance of ourselves :-One Drunkard's Reflection on another.

Then he's a rogue. After a passy-measure, I hate a drunken rogue. [or a pavin,

Wer't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honor'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness;
But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive
therein,

Even as I would, when I to love begin. [adieu!

Pro. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine, Think on thy Protheus, when thou haply seest Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel: Wish me partaker in thy happiness, When thou dost meet good-hap; and, in thy If ever danger do environ thee, [danger, Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine. The Evils of being in Love. To be in love, where scorn is bought with [moment's mirth, Coy looks, with heart-sore sighs; one fading With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights, If haply won, perhaps, a hapless gain; If lost, why then a grievous labor won; However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.

groans,

Love commended and dispraised. Pro. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

[bud

Val. And writers say, as the most forward Is eaten by the canker, ere it blow, Is turn'd to folly; blasting in the bud, Even so by love the young and tender wit Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.

Pro. He after honor hunts, I after love: He leaves his friends, to dignify them more: I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me: Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at nought;

Made wit with musing weak, heart-sick with thought.

Love froward and dissembling. Maids, in modesty, say No, to that [Ay. Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love, Which they would have the proff 'rer construe That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod !

The Advantages of Travel. Pant. He wonder'd that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: Some to the wars, to try their fortune there; Some, to discover islands far away; Some, to the studious universities. For any, or for all these exercises,

VERONA.

SHAKSPEARE.

The Advantages of Travel, &c. Val. CEASE to persuade, my loving Protheus; Home keeping youth have ever homely wits:

And did request me to importane you,
To let him spend his time no more at home,
Which would be great impeachment to his age
In having known no travel in his youth.

As if but now they waxed pale for woe:
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire.
Hope.

Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that: And manage it against despairing thoughts.

Love compared to a Figure on Ice. This weak impress of love is as a figure Trenched in ice, which, with an hour's heat, Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form.

Three Things hated by Women. Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent: Three things that women highly hold in hate. Duke. Ay, but she'll think, that it is spoke Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it; [in hate. Therefore, it must, with circumstance, be spoken

By one whom she esteemeth as his friend.

The Power of Poetry with Women. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: Write, till your ink be dry; and with your tears Moist it again; and frame some feeling line, That may discover such integrity:— For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's [stones, Whose golded touch could soften steel and Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.

sinews;

Song.

Who is Sylvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?

Holy, fair, and wise is she:

The heavens such grace did lend her,

That she night admired be.

Is she kind as she is fair?

For beauty lives with kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness;

And, being help'd, inhabits there.
Then to Sylvia let us sing,
That Sylvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling:
To her let us garlands bring.
A Lover's Rest.

Jul. And so, good rest.

Pro. As wretches have o'er night, That wait for execution in the morn.

True Love.

Thyself hast lov'd: and I have heard thee say, No grief did ever come so near thy heart, As when thy lady and thy true love died, Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. Beauty neglected and lost.

But since she did neglect her looking-glass, And threw her sun-expelling mask away, The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks, And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face. The Power of Action.

And, at that time I made her weep a-good, For I did play a lamentable part: Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning

For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight;

Which I so lively acted with my tears,
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal,
Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow!
Women sacred even to Banditti.
Fear not; he bears an honorable mind,
And will not use a woman lawlessly.
A Lover in Solitude.

How use doth breed a habit in a man! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. 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. Love unreturned.

What dangerous action, stood it next to death, Would I not undergo for one calm look? O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, When women cannot love where they're belov'd.

Infidelity in a Friend, and Reconciliation on Repentance.

Vol. Treacherous man! [mine eye Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say,

I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me.

1

[hand

Who should be trusted, when one's own right Is perjur'd to the bosom? Protheus,

I am sorry, I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake. The private wound is deepest.

Pro. My shame and guilt confound me.-
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,

I tender it here; I do as truly suffer,
As e'er I did commit.

Val. Then I am paid:

And once again I do receive thee honest.—
Who by repentance is not satisfied,

Is nor of heaven nor earth.

Inconstancy in Man.

O heaven! were man

But constant, he were perfect: that one error Fills him with faults.

A worthy Gentleman.

Now by the honor of my ancestry, I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And think thee worthy of an empress' love. Know then, I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit To which I thus subscribe-Sir Valentine, Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd : Take thou thy Sylvia, for thou hast deserv'd Reformed Exiles. [her. These banished men Are men endued with worthy qualities; They are reformed, civil, full of good, And fit for great employment, worthy lord.