Elegant extracts in poetry

§ 14. THE WINTER'S TALE.

SHAKSPEARE. Youthful Friendship and Innocence. WE were, fair queen, [behind, Two lads that thought there was no more But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. [sun, We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' th' And bleat the one at th' other; what we chang'd, Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing; nor dream'd, That any did had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd, With stronger blood we should have answer'd Heaven

Boldly-" Not guilty;" the imposition clear'd, Hereditary ours.

Praise, its Influence on Women. Cram us with praise, and make us As fat as tame things: one good deed, dying tongueless,

Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that: Our praises are our wages: you may ride us With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs, ere With spur we heat an acre.

Nature.

How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness: and make itself a pastiine To harder bosoms!

A Father's Fondness for his Child. Leon. Are you so fond of your young prince Do seem to be of ours? [as we

Pol. If at home, Sir, He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter: Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: He makes a July's day short as December: And, with his varying childness, cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood. Faithful Service.

Cam. In your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilful negligent, It was my folly: if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end: if ever fearful To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest; these, my lord, Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty Is never free of.

Jealousy.

Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more

swift?

Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web, but theirs, theirs only [thing? That would, unseen, be wicked? Is this noWhy, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing;

The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;

My wife is nothing: nor nothing have these
If this be nothing.
[nothings,

King-killing detestable.
-To do this deed

Promotion follows: if I could find example
Of thousands that had struck anointed kings,
And flourish'd after, I'd not do't; but since
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not
Let villany itself forswear it.
[one,

The Effects of Jealousy.
This Jealousy

Is for a precious creature! as she's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,
Must it be violent: and as he does conceive
He is dishonor'd by a man, which ever
Professed to him, why, his revenges must

In that be made more bitter.

Knowledge sometimes hurtful. A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, There may be in the cup And yet partake no venom; for his knowIs not infected: but if one present [ledge Th' abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his With violent hefts.

Calumny.

[sides,

Praise her but for this her without-door

form

(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech) and straight [brands, The shrug, the ham, or ha; these pretty That calumny doth use:-O! I am out, That mercy does: for calumny will fear Virtue itself these shrugs, these hums, and has, [tween, When you have said, she's goodly, come beEre you can say she's honest.

Fortitude and Innocence.
Iler. Do not weep, good fools;
There is no cause: when you shall know your
.inistress

Has deserved prison, then abound in tears,
As I come out this action, I now go on,
Is for my better grace.

Honesty and Honor.

Here's a do,
To lock up honesty and honor from
The access of gentle visitors.

The Silence of Innocence eloquent.
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.
Affectionate Child.

To see his nobleness! Conceiving the dishonor of his mother, He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply: Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself! Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, And downright languish'd."

Child resembling his Father. Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip, The trick of his frown, his forehead: nay the valley, [smiles; The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his

The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger: And thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it

So like to him that got it, if thou hast

The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all
colors

No yellow in't; lest she suspect, as he does,
Her children not her husband's!

An Infant to be exposed.

Come on, poor babe :

[vens
Some pow'rful spirit instruct the kites and ra-
To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say,
Casting their savageness aside, have done
Like offices of pity.

Hermione pleading her innocence.
If pow'rs divine

Behold our human actions (as they do),
I doubt not then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know
(Who will seem least to do so) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devis'd,
And play'd to take spectators; for behold me,-
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful princes-here standing,
To prate and talk of life, and honor, 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I
prize it
[honor,
As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I stand for. I appeal
To your own conscience, Sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot beyond
The bound of honor; or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry, fie, upon my grave!

That I should fear to die; therefore proceed.
But yet hear this, mistake me not,-no; life,
I prize it not a straw: but for mine honor,
(Which I would free) if I shall be condemn'd,
Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake; I tell you,
'Tis rigor, and not law,

Despair of Pardon.
But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir: therefore betake

thee

To nothing but despair. A thousand knees,
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter,
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

An Account of a Ghost's appearing in a Dream.
I have heard (but not believ'd), the spirits

of the dead

May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking. To me comes a creature,
Sometimes her head on one side, some another;
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd, and so becoming; in pure white robes
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me,
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: "Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath;
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep, and leave it crying: and, for the

babe

Is counted lost for ever, Perdita

I pr'ythee call it: for this ungentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more." And so with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself, and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys:

AWife's Loss of all Things dear, and Contempt Yet, for this once, yea superstitiously,

of Death.

Leo. Look for no less than death.

Her. Sir, spare your threats;

I will be squar'd by this.

An Infant exposed.
--Poor wretch,

The bug, which you would fright me with, I That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd

seek.

To me can life be no commodity;
The crown and comfort of my life, your favor,
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went. My second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
I am barr'd like one infectious: my third
comfort,

Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murther: Myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
To women of all fashion: lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i' the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,

To loss, and what may follow! Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell!
The day frowns inore and more; thou art like
to have

A lullaby too rough: I never saw
The heavens so dim by day.

Deities transformed for Love.
The gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beasts upon them. Jupiter
Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Nep-

tune

A ram, and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god,
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
As I seem now: their transformations
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer;

Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honor; nor my lusts
Burn hotter than
my faith.

Mistress of the Sheep-shearing.
Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife
liv'd, upon

This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook;
Both dame, and servant; welcom'd all; serv'd
all:
[here,
Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now
At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle;
On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire
With labor; and the thing she took to quench
it,

She would to each one sip: you are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting. Pray you, bid
These unknown friends to us welcome, for it is
A way to make us better friends, more known.
Come quench your blushes and present your
self
That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come
[on,
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
As your good flock shall
prosper.

A Garland for old Men.

Per. Reverend Sirs,

For you there's rosemary, and rue: these keep
Seeming, and savor, all the winter long;
Grace, and remembrance, be unto you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

Per. Shepherdess,

(A fair one are you) well you fit our ages With flowers of winter.

Nature and Art.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient-
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter; the fairest flowers o' the

season

This youth should say, 'twere well; and only
Desire to breed by me.-

[therefore
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ;
The marygold that goes to bed with the sun,
And with him rises, weeping; these are flowers
Of middle summer; and, I think, they are given
To men
of middle age.

Here's flowers for you;

[flock,

A Garland for Young Men.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your
And only live by gazing.
You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
Per. Out, alas!
Would blow you through and through. Now,
my fairest friend,

I would I had some flowers o' the spring, that
Become your time of day; and yours, and
might
[yours;
That wear upon your virgin-branches yet
Your maiden-heads growing:-O, Proserpina,
From Dis's waggon! daffodils
For the flow'rs now, that, frighted, thou lett'st
[fall
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty, violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet
To strew him o'er and o'er.
[friend,

Fol. What like a corse?

Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and

Not like a corse: or if not to be buried,
play on;
But quick and in mine arms.

A Lover's Commendation.
What you do,

[sweet,

Still betters what is done. When you speak,
I'd have you do it ever : when you sing,
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
Pray so; and, for the ord'ring your affairs,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish

you

A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,
And own no other function: each your doing,
So singular in each particular,

Crowns what you're doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

Honest Wooing.

Per. O Doricles,

Your praises are too large: but that your youth,
And the true blood which peeps so fairly
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd;
You woo'd me the false way.
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,

Fol. I think, you have

As little skill to fear, as I have purpose
To put you to 't. But, come; our dance, I pray:
Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair,
That never mean to part.

Presents little regarded by real Lovers. Pol. How now, fair shepherd? Your heart is full of something that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young,

And handed love as you do, I was wont
To load my she with knacks: I would have
ransack'd

The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance: you have let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your
lass
Interpretation should abuse, and call this
Your lack of love, or bounty, you were straited
For a reply, at least, if you make care
Of happy holding her.

Flo. Old Sir, I know

She prizes not such trifles as those are:
The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and

lock'd

Up in my heart; which I have given already,
But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my love,
Before this ancient Sir, who, it should seem,
Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand; this
hand

As soft as dove's down, and as white as it,
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,
That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er.

Tender Affection.

Were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had force, and
knowledge
[them,
More than was ever man's-I would not prize
Without her love: for her, employ them all;
Commend them, and condemn them to her
Or to their own perdition.
[service,
A Father the best Guest at his Son's Nuptials.
Methinks, a father

Is, at the nuptials of his son, a guest [more;
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once
Is not your father grown incapable
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!

Self-Conceit.

Ant. How blest are we that are not simple men! Yet nature might have made me as these are; Therefore I will not disdain.

Self-Reproach, and too severe Reproof. Cle. At the last, [evils; Do, as the heavens have done; forget your With them forgive yourself.

Leo. Whilst I remember

Her and her virtues, I cannot forget
My blemishes in them; and so still think of
That heirless it hath made my kingdom; and
The wrong I did myself; which was so much,
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er man
Bred his hopes out of.

Pau. True, too true, my lord;
If, one by one, you wedded all the world,
Or, from the all that are, took something good,
To make a perfect woman; she, you kill'd,
Would be unparallel'd.

Leo. I think so. Kill'd! She I kill'd! I did so: but thou strik'st me Sorely, to say I did, it is as bitter Upon thy tongue, as in my thought: now, Say so but seldom. [good now,

Cle. Not at all, good lady: You might have spoken a thousand things, that

would

Have done the time more benefit, and grac`d

Your kindness better.

Love more rich for what it gives.
Leo. I might have look'd upon my queen's
Have taken treasure from her lips→→→
full eye;

Pau. And left them
More rich, for what they yielded.
A captivating Woman.
This is a creature,

He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal

Than most have of his age.

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 rea-
The father (all whose joy is nothing else [son,

Of all professors else; make proselytes
Of who she but bid follow.

Anguish of Recollection for a lost Friend.
Pr'ythee no more; cease; thou know'st,
He dies to me again, when talk'd of: sure,
When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches

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Antony's Softness.

SHAKSPEARE.

His captain's heart, Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles in his breast, reneges all temper; And is become the bellows, and the fan, To cool a gipsy's lust.

Love, the Nobleness of Life. Let Rome in Tiber melt! and the wide arch Of the rang'd empire fall! here is my space; Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life Is, to do thus; when such a mutual pair, And such a twain can do't; in which, I bind On pain of punishment, the world to weet, We stand up peerless.

Lover's Praise.

Fie, wrangling queen! Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!

Great Minds respect Truth. [teller. Mes. The nature of bad news infects the Ant. When it concerns the fool or coward. On : [thus: Things that are past are done, with me-tis Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flatter'd. [tongue; Speak to me home, mince not the general Name Cleopatra as she 's call'd' in Rome: Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults [lice With such full licence, as both truth and ma

Have pow'r to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds [told us, When our quick winds lie still, and our ills Is as our earing.

Things lost valued. Forbear me.

There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The land could pluck her back, that shov'd
her on.

The Mutability of the People.
Our slippery people

(Whose love is never link'd to the deserver,
Till his deserts are past) begin to throw
Pompey the Great, and all his dignities,
Upon his son; who, high in name and pow'r,
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main soldier.

Cleopatra's contemptuous Raillery.
Nay, pray you, seek no color for your going,
But bid farewell, and go: when you sued
staying,

Then was the time for words: no going then-
Eternity was in our lips and eyes; [poor,
Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so
But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier in the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Cleopatra's anxious Tenderness.
Ant. I'll leave you, lady.

Cleo. Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I must part-but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have lov'd-but there's not it ;-
That you know well: something it is I would-
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all-forgotten.

Cleopatra's Wishes for Antony on Parting. Therefore be deaf to my unpity'd folly, Your honor calls you hence; And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword

Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success

Be strew'd before your feet!

Antony's Vices and Virtues.

Lep. I must not think

There are evils enough to darken all his goodness: His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change, More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,

Than what he chooses.

Cæs. You are too indulgent. Let us grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes him,

(As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Antony

No way excuse his foils, when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd

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Llibres

Elegant extracts in poetry, Volum 2