Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee.
Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do;
Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues
Did not go forth with us, 'twere all alike

As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd,
But to fine issues: nor nature ever lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence,

But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines

Herself the glory of a creditor,

Both thanks and use. But I do bend my specch

To one that can my part in him advertise.

Hold, therefore, Angelo.

In our remove be thou at full ourself:

Mortality and mercy in Vienna

Live in thy tongue and heart. Old Escalus,
Though first in question, is thy secondary,
Take thy commission.

The Bishop of Carlisle dissuading the deposi tion of King Richard, and the crowning of Boling

broke.

WORST in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best besceming me to speak the truth.
Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard; then true nobleness would
Teach him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king?
And who sits here that is not Richard's subject?
Thieves are not judg'd, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them:
And shall the figure of God's majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
Be judg'd by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God,
That in a christian climate, souls refin'd
Should shew so heinous, black, obscene a deed!
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirr'd up by heaven, thus boldly for his king. -

My lord Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Ilereford's king:
And if you erown him, let me prophesy,-
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act:
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound;
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,

Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha and dead men's sculls.
O, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the woefullest division prove,
That ever fell upon this cursed earth:

Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,

Lest children's children cry against you--looc!

VI. Volumnia exhorting her son Coriolanus, to sooth and please the Plebeians.

PRAY, be counsel'd:

I have a heart as little apt as yours,
But yet a brain, that leads my use of anger
To better vantage.

You are too absolute:

Though therein you can never be too noble.

But when extremities speak, I have heard you say,
Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends,

I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me,
In peace, what each of them by the other lose,
That they combine not there?

If it be honour, in your wars, to seem

The same you are not, (which for your best ends,
You adopt as policy,) how is it less, or worse,
That it shall hold companionship in peace

With honour, as in war; since that to both

It stands in like request?

Now it lies with you to speak to the people: Not by your own instruction, nor by the matter Which your heart prompts you to; but with such words

That are but roasted on your tongue, but bastards and

syllables

Of no allowance to your bosom's truth.
Now this no more dishonours you at all,
Than to take in a town with gentle words,
Which else would put you to your fortune, and
The hazard of much blood.-

I would dissemble with my nature, where
My fortunes and my friends, at stake, required
I should do so in honour: I am in this,

Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles:
And you will rather shew our general lowts

How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon them
For the inheritance of their loves, and safeguard
Of what that want might ruin.

I pr'ythee now, my son,

Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand;

And thus far having stretch'd it, (here be with them,)
Thy knee bussing the stone, (for in such business
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant
More learned than the ears,) waving thy head,
With often thus correcting thy stout heart,
Now humble as the ripest mulberry,

That will not hold the handling: or say to them,
Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils,
Hast not the soft way, which thou dost confess
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim,
In asking their good loves: but thou wilt frame
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far
As thou hast power and person.

Pr'ythee now,

Go, and be rul❜d: although I know, thou hadst rather
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf,
Than flatter him in a bower.

VII. The Prince of Verona exhorting old Capulet and Montague to restore the peace.

REBELLIOUS Subjects, enemies to peace, Prophaners of this neighbour-stained steel,Will they not hear?-what ho! you men, you beasts,→

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,-
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets;
And made Verona's ancient citizens

Cast up their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,,
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate;
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time, all the rest depart away:
You, Capulet, shall go along with me;
And Montague, come you this afternoon,
To know our further pleasure in this case,
To old Free town, our common judgment-place.
Once more on pain of death, all men depart.

VIII. Wolsey's advice to Cromwell, how to rise without ambition.

CROMWELL, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries, but thou hast forc'd me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman, Let's dry our eyes. And thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of,-say, I taught thee, Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; 1 By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, The image of his maker, hope to win by 't? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.

المتد

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,

To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,

Thy God's and truth's: then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell! Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!

My robe

And my integrity to heaven, are all

I dare now call my own.

O Cromwell! Cromwell!

Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal

I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

IX. French King's advice to Bertram, not to despise virtue and merit, though unallied to hereditary honours.

"TIS only title thou disdain'st in her, the which
I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off
In differences so mighty. If she be

All that is virtuous (save what thou dislik'st,
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name: but do not so.

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignifi'd by the doer's deed:
Where great addition swells, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone

Is good, without a name: vileness is so t
The property by what it is should go,

Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;

In these to nature she's immediate heir ;

And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire. Honours best thrive
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave
'Debauch'd on ev'ry tomb; on ev'ry grave
A lying trophy; and as oft is dumb,

Where dust and damn'd oblivion are the tomb