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• • J • 
 
THE BEAUTIES 
 
 SHAKSPEARE 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. WILLIAM DODD, LL.D. 
 
 Revised, Corrected, and Enlarged 
 
 Volume I 
 
 NEW YORK: 46 East T4TH Street 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 
 
 c/6f8 
 

PREFACE 
 
 I SHALL not attempt any labored encomiums of 
 Shakspeare, or endeavor to set forth his perfec- 
 tions, at a time when such universal and just ap- 
 plause is paid him, and when every tongue is big 
 with his boundless fame. He himself tells us — 
 
 " To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
 To throw a perfume on the violet, 
 To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
 Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
 To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 
 Is wasteful and ridiculous excess." 
 
 And wasteful and ridiculous indeed it would be to 
 say anything in his praise, when presenting the 
 world with such a collection of Beauties as per- 
 haps is nowhere to be met with, and, I may very 
 safely affirm, cannot be paralleled from the produc- 
 tions of any other single author, ancient or modern. 
 There is scarcely a topic, common with other writers, 
 on which he has not excelled them all; there are 
 many nobly peculiar to himself, where he shines 
 (ill) 
 
 iyi94432 
 
IV 
 
 Preface, 
 
 unrivalled, and like the eagle, properest emblem of 
 his daring genius, soars beyond the common reach 
 and gazes undazzled on the sun. His flights are 
 sometimes so bold, frigid criticism almost dares to 
 disapprove them ; and those narrow minds, which 
 are incapable of elevating their ideas to the sub- 
 limity of their author's, are willing to bring them 
 down to a level with their own. Hence many fine 
 passages have been condemned in Shakspeare as 
 rant and fustian, intolerable bombast and turgid 
 nonsense, which, if read with the least glow of 
 the same imagination that warmed the writer's 
 bosom, would blaze in the robes of sublimity, and 
 obtain the commendations of a Longinus. And, 
 unless some of the same spirit that elevated the 
 poet elevate the reader too, he must not presume to 
 talk of taste and elegance ; he will prove a languid 
 reader, an indifferent judge, and a far more indifferent 
 critic and commentator. 
 
 It is some time since I first proposed publishing 
 this collection ; for Shakspeare was ever, of all 
 modern authors, my chief favorite ; and during my 
 relaxations from my more severe and necessary 
 studies at college, I never omitted to read and in- 
 dulge myself in the rapturous flights of this de- 
 lightful and sweetest child of fancy : and when my 
 imagination has been heated by the glowing ardor 
 
Prejace, v 
 
 of his uncommon fire, have never failed to lament 
 that his Beauties should- be so obscured, and that 
 he himself should be made a kind of stage for bun- 
 gling critics to show their clumsy activity upon. 
 
 It was my first intention to have considered each 
 play critically and regularly through all its parts ; 
 but as this would have swelled the work beyond 
 proper bounds, I was obliged to confine myself 
 solely to a collection of his Poetical Beauties ; and I 
 doubt not every reader will find so large a fund for 
 observation, so much excellent and refined morality, 
 that he will prize the work as it deserves, and pay, 
 with me, all due adoration to the manes of Shak- 
 speare. 
 
 Longinus ' tells us, that the most infallible test of 
 the true sublime is the impression a performance 
 makes upon our minds when read or recited. *' If," 
 says he, "a person finds that a performance trans- 
 ports not his soul, nor exalts his thoughts ; that it 
 calls not up into his mind ideas more enlarged than 
 the mere sounds of the words convey, but on atten- 
 tive examination its dignity lessens and declines, he 
 may conclude, that whatever pierces no deeper than 
 the ears can never be the true sublime. That, on 
 the contrary, is grand and lofty, which the more we 
 
 1 See " Longinus on the Sublime," Sect. 7, The translation 
 in the text is from the learned Mr. Smith. 
 
vi Preface, 
 
 consider, the greater ideas we conceive of it : whose 
 force we cannot possibly withstand ; which immedi- 
 ately sinks deep, and makes such impression on the 
 mind as cannot easily be worn out or effaced : in a 
 word, you may pronounce that sublime, beautiful, 
 and genuine, which always pleases and takes equally 
 with all sorts of men. For when persons of differ- 
 ent humors, ages, professions, and inclinations agree 
 in the same joint approbation of any performance, 
 then this union of assent, this combination of so 
 many different judgments, stamps a high and indis- 
 putable value on that performance which meets with 
 such general applause." This fine observation of 
 Longinus is most remarkably verified in Shakspeare ; 
 for all humors, ages, and inclinations jointly pro- 
 claim their approbation and esteem of him ; and will, 
 I hope, be found true in most of the passages which 
 are here collected from him : I say most, because 
 there are some which I am convinced will not stand 
 this test : the old, the grave, and the severe, will dis- 
 approve, perhaps, the more soft and (as they may 
 call them) trifling love-tales, so elegantly breathed 
 forth, and so emphatically extolled by the young, 
 the gay, and the passionate ; while these will esteem 
 as dull and languid the sober saws of morality and 
 the home-felt observations of experience. However, 
 as it was my business to collect for readers of all 
 
Preface, vii 
 
 tastes and all complexions, let me desire none to dis- 
 approve what hits not with their own humor, but to 
 turn over the page, and they will surely find some- 
 thing acceptable and engaging. But I have yet 
 another apology to make, for some passages intro- 
 duced merely on account of their peculiarity, which 
 to some, possibly, will appear neither sublime nor 
 beautiful, and yet deserve attention, as indicating 
 the vast stretch, and sometimes particular turn, of 
 the poet's imagination. 
 
 There are many passages in Shakspeare so closely 
 connected with the plot and characters, and on which 
 their Beauties so wholly depend, that it would have 
 been absurd and idle to have produced them here : 
 hence the reader will find little of the inimitable 
 Falstaff in this work, and not one line extracted from 
 the " Merry Wives of Windsor," one of Shakspeare's 
 best and most justly admired comedies : whoever 
 reads that play will immediately see there was noth- 
 ing either proper or possible for this work: which, 
 such as it is, I most sincerely and cordially recom- 
 mend to the candor and benevolence of the world : 
 and wish everyone that peruses it may feel the satis- 
 faction I have frequently felt in composing it, and 
 receive such instructions and advantages from it as 
 it is well calculated and well able to bestow. For my 
 own part, better and more important things hence- 
 
VIU 
 
 Preface. 
 
 forth demand my attention, and I here, with no 
 small pleasure, take leave of Shakspeare and the 
 critics : as this work was begun and finished before I 
 entered upon the sacred function in which I am now 
 happily employed, let me trust this juvenile perform- 
 ance will prove no objection, since graver, and 
 some very eminent members of the Church have 
 thought it no improper employ to comment, explain, 
 and publish the works of their own country poets. 
 
 W. DODD. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 COMEDIES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 All's Well that Ends Well .... 3 
 
 As You Like It . . = 10 
 
 Comedy of Errors 24 
 
 Love's Labour 's Lost 28 
 
 Measure for Measure 36 
 
 The Merchant of Venice 50 
 
 A Midsummer-Night's Dream ..... 67 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing ...... 78 
 
 The Taming of the Shrew 89 
 
 The Tempest 94 
 
 Twelfth Night iii 
 
 The Two Gentlemen of Verona . . .118 
 
 The Winter's Tale ........ 129 
 
 HISTORICAL PLAYS. 
 
 King John » 145 
 
 King Richard II 164 
 
 King Henry IV. (Part I.) 181 
 
 (ix) 
 
X Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 King Henry IV. (Part II.) 201 
 
 King Henry V 216 
 
 King Henry VI. (Part I.) 236 
 
 King Henry VI. (Part II.) 238 
 
 King Henry VI. (Part IIL) 246 
 
 King Richard III 257 
 
 King Henry VIII 274 
 
PART T. 
 
 COMEDIES 
 
: T M s ^ , _ 
 
 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 ACT I. 
 
 ADVICE. 
 
 Be thou blest, Bertram ! and succeed thy father 
 In manners, as in shape! Thy blood, and virtue, 
 Contend for empire in thee ; and thy goodness 
 Share with thy birthright ! Love all, trust a few. 
 Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy 
 Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend 
 Under thy own life's key : be checked for silence. 
 But never tax'd for speech. 
 
 TOO AMBITIOUS LOVE. 
 
 I am undone ; there is no living, none, 
 If Bertram be away. 'T were all one, 
 That I should love a bright particular star, 
 And think to wed it, he is so above me : 
 In his bright radiance and collateral light 
 
4 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
 
 The ahibition'.iiv rji)j jvjve thus plagues itself: 
 
 The hind' that woulil' lie' na'ated by the lion, 
 
 .M<isJ. /:Jiefpr. 'love.; ;'T was- p^atty, though a plague, 
 
 V4 ^ee him 'v^v^ryjhbur } JfQ'.sit and draw 
 
 His arched brows, his nawking eye, his curls, 
 
 In our heart's table ; ' heart too capable 
 
 Of every line and trick ^ of his sweet favour : ' 
 
 Bujt now he 's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
 
 Must sanctify his reliques. 
 
 COWARDICE. 
 
 I know him a notorious liar, 
 Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 
 Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, 
 That they take place, when virtue's steely bones 
 Look bleak i' the cold wind. 
 
 THE REMEDY OF EVILS GENERALLY IN OURSELVES. 
 
 Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie. 
 Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 
 Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull 
 Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. 
 
 CHARACTER OF A NOBLE COURTIER. 
 
 In his youth 
 He had the wit which I can well observe 
 
 1 Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which his resem- 
 blance was portrayed. 
 * Peculiarity of feature. » Countenance. 
 
All 's Well That Ends Well, \ 
 
 To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest 
 Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, 
 Ere they can hide their levity in honour : 
 So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
 Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were, 
 His equal had awaked them, and his ho-nour, 
 Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
 Exception bid him speak, and at this time 
 His tongue obey'd his ' hand : who were below him 
 He used as creatures of another place 
 And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
 Making them proud of his humility. 
 
 Such a man 
 Might be a copy to these younger times. 
 
 ACT n. 
 
 HONOUR DUE TO PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY, NOT TO 
 ^ BIRTH. 
 
 From lowest place when virtuous things proceed. 
 
 The place is dignified by the doer's deed : 
 
 Where great additions ^ swell's, and virtue none. 
 
 It is a dropsied honour. Good alone 
 
 Is good without a name. Vileness is so : ^ 
 
 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 ; 
 
 1 His is put for its. 2 Titles. 
 
 3 Good is good independent of any worldly distinction, and so 
 is vileness vile. 
 
6 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn, 
 Which challenges itself as honours born, 
 And is not like the sire : honours thrive, 
 When rather from our acts we them derive 
 Than our foregoers : the mere word 's a slave, 
 Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave, 
 A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb. 
 Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb 
 Of honoured bones indeed. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SELF-ACCUSATION OF TOO GREAT LOVE. 
 
 Poor lord ! is 't 1 
 That chase thee from thy country an/i expose 
 Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
 Of the none-sparing war ? and is it I 
 That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou 
 Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 
 Of smoky muskets ? O you leaden messengers, 
 That ride upon the violent speed of fire. 
 Fly with false aim ; move the still-peering air, 
 That sings with piercing ; do not touch my lord ! 
 Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ; 
 Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
 I am the caitiff, that do hold him to 't ; 
 And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 
 His death was so effected : better 't were, 
 I met the ravin i lion when he roar'd 
 
 1 Ravenous. 
 
All's Well That Ends Well. 7 
 
 With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 't were 
 
 That all the miseries which nature owes 
 
 Were mine at once. No, come thou home, 
 
 Rousillon, 
 Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, 
 As oft it loses all : I will be gone ; 
 My being here it is that holds thee hence : 
 Shall I stay here to do \? no, no, although 
 The air of paradise did fan the house. 
 And angels officed all : I will be gone ; 
 That pitiful rumour may report my flight, 
 To consolate thine ear. 
 
 A maid's honour. 
 
 The honour of a maid is her name ; and no legacy 
 is so rich as honesty. 
 
 ADVICE TO YOUNG WOMEN. 
 
 Beware of them, Diana ; their promises, entice- 
 ments, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, 
 are not the things they go under : ' many a maid hath 
 been seduced by them ; and the misery is, example, 
 that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, 
 cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they 
 are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope 
 I need not to advise you further ; but I hope your own 
 grace will keep you where you are, though there were 
 
 1 They are not the things for which their names would make 
 them pass. 
 
8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 no further danger known but the modesty which 
 is so lost. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 CUSTOM OF SEDUCERS. 
 
 Ay, so you serve us 
 Till we serve you : but when you have our roses, 
 You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves 
 And mock us with our bareness. , 
 
 CHASTITY. 
 
 Mine honour 's such a ring : 
 My chastity's the jewel oi our house, 
 Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
 Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 
 In me to lose. 
 
 LIFE CHEQUERED. 
 
 The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good 
 and ill together : our virtues would be proud, if our 
 faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would 
 despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. 
 
 A COWARDLY BRAGGART. 
 
 Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great, 
 'T would burst at this. Captain I '11 be no more ; 
 But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
 As captain shall : simply the thing I am 
 
All 's Well Thai Ends Well. 9 
 
 Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart 
 Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass, 
 That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
 Rust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and Parolles, live 
 Safest in shame .' being fool'd, by foolery thrive ! 
 There 's place and means for every man alive. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 AGAINST DELAY. 
 
 Let 's take the instant by the forward top ; 
 For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 
 The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time 
 Steals ere we can effect them. 
 
 EXCUSE FOR UNSEASONABLE DISLIKE. 
 
 At first 
 I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
 Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue ; 
 Where the impression of mine eye infixing, 
 Contempt his scornful prospective did lend me. 
 Which warp'd the line of every other favour : 
 Scorn'd a fair colour, or expressed it stolen ; 
 Extended or contracted all proportions, 
 To a most hideous object. Thence it came. 
 That she whom all men praised and whom myself. 
 Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye 
 The dust that did offend it. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 MODESTY AND COURAGE IN YOUTH. 
 
 I beseech you, punish me not with your hard 
 thoughts ; wherein I confess me much guilty, to 
 deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let 
 your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my 
 trial : wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed 
 that was never gracious ; if killed, but one dead that 
 is willing to be so : I shall do my friends no wrong, 
 for I have none to lament me ; the world no injury, 
 for in it I have nothing ; only in the world I fill up a 
 place, which may be better supplied when I have 
 made it empty. 
 
 PLAY-FELLOWS. 
 
 We still have slept together, 
 Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together ; 
 And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
 Still we went coupled and inseparable. 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 
 
As You Like It. II 
 
 ROSALIND PROPOSING TO WEAR MEN'S CLOTHES. 
 
 Were it not better, 
 Because that I am more than common tall, 
 That I did suit me all points like a man? 
 A gallant curtle-axe ' upon my thigh, 
 A boar-spear in my hand ; and — in my heart 
 Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will — 
 We '11 have a swashing ^ and a martial outside ; 
 As many other mannish cowards have, 
 That do outface it with their semblances. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SOLITUDE PREFERRED TO A COURT LIFE, AND THE 
 ADVANTAGES OF ADVERSITY. 
 
 Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile. 
 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods 
 More free from peril than the envious court? 
 Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
 The seasons' difference, as the icy fang 
 And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, 
 Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
 Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, 
 ' This is no flattery : these are counsellors 
 That feelingly persuade me what I am.' 
 Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
 
 » Cutlass. 2 Swaggering. 
 
12 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous. 
 
 Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
 
 And this our life exempt from public haunt 
 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 
 Sermons in stones and good in every thing. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON THE WOUNDED STAG. 
 
 Duke Senior. Come, shall we go and kill us ven- 
 ison? 
 And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools. 
 Being native burghers of this desert city. 
 Should in their own confines with forked heads * 
 Have their round haunches gored. 
 
 1st Lord. Indeed, my lord, 
 
 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; 
 And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
 Than doth your brother that hath banishM you. 
 To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, 
 Did steal behind him as he lay along 
 Under an oak whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : 
 To the which place a poor sequestered stag. 
 That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt. 
 Did come to languish, and, indeed, my lord, 
 The wretched animal heaved forth such groans 
 That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
 Almost to bursting ; and the big round tears 
 Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
 In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool, 
 
 1 Barbed arrows. 
 
As You Like It. 13 
 
 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
 
 Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
 
 Augmenting it with tears. 
 
 Duke S. But what said Jaques ? 
 
 Did he not moralize this spectacle? 
 
 ij/ Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. 
 First, for his weeping in the needless stream ; 
 ' Poor deer,' quoth he, ' thou mak'st a testament 
 As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
 To that which hath too much : ' Then, being here 
 
 alone. 
 Left and abandoned of his velvet friends, 
 ' 'T is right,' quoth he : ' thus misery doth part 
 The flux of company : ' anon, a careless herd, 
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by him 
 And never stays to greet him ; ' Ay,' quoth Jaques, 
 ' Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 
 'T is just the fashion : wherefore do you look 
 Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? ' 
 
 GRATITUDE IN AN OLD SERVANT. 
 
 But do not so. I have five hundred crowns. 
 The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 
 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse, 
 When service should, in my old limbs lie lame, 
 And unregarded age in corners thrown ; 
 Take that. And He that doth the ravens feed, 
 Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
 Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
 All this I give you. Let me be your servant ; 
 
14 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; 
 For in my youth I never did apply 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 
 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
 The means of weakness and debility ; 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; 
 I Ul do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business of necessities. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER. 
 
 O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily: 
 
 If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
 
 That ever love did make thee run into. 
 
 Thou hast not loved : 
 
 Or, if thou hast not sat as I do now. 
 
 Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
 
 Thou hast not loved : 
 
 Or if thou hast not broke from company, 
 
 Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
 
 Thou hast not loved. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A FOOL, AND HIS MORALIZING 
 ON TIME. 
 
 * Good-morrow, fool,' quoth I. ' No, sir,' quoth he, 
 
 ' Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune : ' 
 
 And then he drew a dial from his poke ; 
 
 And looking on it with lack-lustre eye. 
 
 Says, very wisely, ' It is ten o'clock : 
 
 Thus may we see,' quoth he, ' how the world wags. 
 
As You Like It. 15 
 
 'T is but an hour ago, since it was nine, 
 And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven ; 
 And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, 
 And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; 
 And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear 
 The motley fool thus moral on the time. 
 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer. 
 That fools should be so deep-contemplative ; 
 And I did laugh, sans intermission. 
 An hour by his dial. O noble fool ! 
 A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear.i 
 
 Duke S. What fool is this ? 
 
 yaq. O worthy fool ! One that hath been a 
 courtier ; 
 And says, if ladies be but young and fair. 
 They have the gift to know it : and in his brain, 
 Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
 After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd 
 With observation, the which he vents 
 In mangled forms. 
 
 A fool's liberty of speech. 
 
 I must have liberty 
 Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
 To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have : 
 And they that are most galled with my folly, 
 They most must laugh : and why, sir, must they so? 
 The ' why ' is plain as way to parish church : 
 He that a fool doth very wisely hit, 
 
 1 The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured coat. 
 
1 6 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
 Not to seem senseless of the bob ; if not, 
 The wise man's folly is anatomized 
 Even by the squandering glances of the fool. 
 
 APOLOGY FOR SATIRE. 
 
 Why, who cries out on pride, 
 That can therein tax any private party? 
 Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea. 
 Till that the weary very means do ebb ? 
 What woman in the city do I name, 
 When that I say the city-woman bears 
 The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? 
 Who can come in and s^y that I mean her, 
 When such a one as she such is her neighbour? 
 Or what is he of basest function. 
 That says his bravery ^ is not on my cost, 
 Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits 
 His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 
 There then: how then? what then? Let me see 
 
 wherein 
 My tongue hath wrong'd him : if it do him right, 
 Then he hath wronged himself; if he be free. 
 Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, 
 Unclaim'd of any man. 
 
 A TENDER PETITION. 
 
 But whatever you are, 
 That in this desert inaccessible, 
 
 1 Finery. 
 
As Yoii Like It. 17 
 
 Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
 Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; 
 If ever you have look'd on better days, 
 If ever been where bells have knolPd to church, 
 If ever sat at any good man's feast. 
 If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, 
 And know what 't is to pity and be pitied, 
 Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. 
 
 THE SEVEN AGES. 
 
 All the world 's a stage. 
 And all the men and women merely players : 
 They have their exits and their entrances ; 
 And one man in his time plays many parts. 
 His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, 
 Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
 And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 
 Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
 Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, 
 Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 
 Jealous in honour, sudden ^ and quick in quarrel. 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, 
 In fair round belly with good capon lined. 
 With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. 
 Full of wise saws and modern 2 instances ; 
 And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
 
 1 Violent. * Trite, common. 
 
1 8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
 With spectacles on nose and pouch on side ; 
 His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
 For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
 Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
 And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all. 
 That ends this strange eventful history, 
 Is second childishness and mere oblivion. 
 Sans teeth, sans eyes, san taste, sans every thing. 
 
 INGRATITUDE. A SONG. 
 
 Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
 Thou art not so unkind ' 
 As man^s ingratitude ; 
 Thy tooth is not so keen. 
 Because thou art not seen. 
 Although thy breath be rude. 
 Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly : 
 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly ; 
 Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! 
 This life is most jolly. 
 
 Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
 That dost not bite so nigh 
 
 As benefits forgot : 
 Though thou the waters warp. 
 Thy sting is not so sharp 
 
 As friend rememberM ' not. 
 Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! &c. 
 
 » Unnatural. 2 Remembering. 
 
As You Like It, 19 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 A shepherd's philosophy. 
 
 I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he 
 is ; and he that wants money, means and content, is 
 without three good friends : that the property of 
 rain is to wet and fire to burn ; that good pasture 
 makes fat sheep ; and that a great cause of the night 
 is lack of the sun ; that he that hath learned no wit 
 by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or 
 comes of a very dull kindred. 
 
 CHARACTER OF AN HONEST AND SIMPLE SHEPHERD. 
 
 Sir, I am a true labourer : I earn that I eat, get 
 that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's 
 happiness, glad of other men's good, content with 
 my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my 
 ewes graze and my lambs suck. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER. 
 
 A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye, 
 and sunken, which you have not, an unquestionable 
 spirit,^ which you have not, a beard neglected, 
 which you have not ; but I pardon you for that, for 
 simply your having ^ in beard is a younger brother's 
 revenue. Then your hose should be ungartered, 
 your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, 
 
 1 A spirit averse to conversation. 2 Estate. • 
 
20 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 your shoe untied, and every thing about you demon- 
 strating a careless desolation. But you are no such 
 man : you are rather point-device ^ in your accoutre- 
 ments as loving yourself than seeming the lover of 
 any other. 
 
 REAL PASSION DISSEMBLED. 
 
 Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 
 
 'T is but a peevish ^ boy ; yet he talks well ; 
 
 But what care I for words ? yet words do well 
 
 When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 
 
 It is a pretty youth : not very pretty : 
 
 But, sure, he 's proud, and yet his pride becomes him : 
 
 He' 11 make a proper man : the best thing in him 
 
 Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongue 
 
 Did make offence his eye did heal it up. 
 
 He is not very tall ; yet for his years he 's tall : 
 
 His leg is but so so ; and yet 't is well : 
 
 There was a pretty redness in his lip, 
 
 A little riper and more lusty red 
 
 Than that mix'd in his cheek ; 't was just the difference 
 
 Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. 
 
 There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him 
 
 In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
 
 To fall in love with him : but, for my part, 
 
 I love him not nor hate him not ; and yet 
 
 I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 
 
 For what had he to do to chide at me ? 
 
 He said, mine eyes were black and my hair black ; 
 
 • 1 Over-exact. « Silly. 
 
As You Like It. 21 
 
 And, now I am remembered, scorn'd at me : 
 
 I marvel why I answered not again : 
 
 But that 's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 THE VARIETIES OF MELANCHOLY. 
 
 I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is 
 emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, 
 nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, 
 which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic 
 nor the lady's, which is nice,' nor the lover's, whic> 
 is all these. 
 
 MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OF BOTH SEXES. 
 
 Say ' a day,' without the ' ever.' No, no, Orlando •- 
 men are April when they woo, December when the«« 
 wed : maids are May when they are maids, but th^, 
 sky changes when they are wives. I will be more 
 jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his 
 hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more 
 new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires 
 than a monkey : I will weep for nothing, like Diana 
 in the fountain, and I will do that when you are dis- 
 posed to be merry ; I will laugh like a hyen, and that 
 when thou art inclined to sleep. 
 
 1 Trifling. 
 
2 2 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 CUPID'S PARENTAGE. 
 
 No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was 
 begot of thought,' conceived of spleen, and born of 
 madness, that blind rascally boy, that abuses every 
 one's eyes because his own are out, let him be judge, 
 how deep I am in love. 
 
 Oliver's description of his danger when 
 sleeping. 
 
 Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age 
 
 And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
 
 A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, 
 
 Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck 
 
 A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself. 
 
 Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd 
 
 The opening of his mouth ; but suddenly 
 
 Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, 
 
 And with indented glides did slip away 
 
 Into a bush : under which bush's shade 
 
 A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, 
 
 Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch. 
 
 When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 't is 
 
 The royal disposition of that beast 
 
 To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. 
 
 1 Melancholy. 
 
As You Like It. 23 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Phebe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 't is to 
 
 love. 
 Silvms. It is to be all made of sighs and tears ; — 
 It is to be all made of faith and service ; — 
 It is to be all made of fantasy, 
 All made of passion, and all made of wishes ; 
 All adoration, duty, and observance. 
 All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 
 All purity, all trial, all observance. 
 
COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 man's preeminence. 
 
 There 's nothing, situate under heaven's eye. 
 But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky : 
 The beasts, the fishes and the winged fowls, 
 Are their males' subject and at their controls : 
 Men, more divine, the masters of all these. 
 Lords of the wide world and wild watery seas, 
 Indued with intellectual sense and souls, 
 Of more preeminence than fish and fowls, 
 Are masters to their females, and their lords : 
 Then let your will attend on their accords. 
 
 PATIENCE EASIER TAUGHT THAN PRACTISED. 
 
 Patience unmoved ! no marvel though she pause ; 
 
 They can be meek that have no other cause. 
 
 A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, 
 
 We bid be quiet when we hear it cry ; 
 
 But were we burden'd with like weight of pain. 
 
 As much or more we should ourselves complain. 
 
Ccmedy of Errors. 25 
 
 DEFAMATION. 
 
 I see, the jewel, best enamelled, 
 Will lose his beauty ; and though gold 'bides still, 
 That others touch, yet often touching will 
 Wear gold : and so no man, that hath a name, 
 But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 
 
 JEALOUSY. 
 
 Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown ; 
 Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects ; 
 I am not Adriana nor thy wife. 
 
 The time was once, when thou unurged wouldst vow 
 That never words were music to thine ear. 
 That never object pleasing in thine eye, 
 That never touch well welcome to thy hand. 
 That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste. 
 Unless I spake, or look'd, or touched, or carved to 
 thee. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 For slander lives upon succession. 
 
 For ever housed where it gets possession. 
 
26 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 A woman's jealousy more deadly than poison. 
 
 The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
 
 Poisons more deadly than a mad idog's tooth. 
 
 It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing, 
 
 And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
 
 Thou say'st, his meat was sauced with thy up- 
 
 braidings : 
 Unquiet meals make ill digestions ; 
 Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; 
 And what 's a fever but a fit of madness ? 
 Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls : 
 Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue 
 But moody and dull melancholy. 
 Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, 
 And at her heels a huge infectious troop 
 Of pale distemperatures and foes to life ? 
 
 DESCRIPTION of A BEGGARLY FORTUNE-TELLER. 
 
 A hungry, lean-faced villain, 
 A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
 A threadbare juggler and a fortune-teller, 
 A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, 
 A living-dead man : this pernicious slave. 
 Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer ; 
 And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, 
 And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me. 
 Cries out, I was possess'd. 
 
Comedy of Errors, 27 
 
 OLD AGE. 
 
 Though now this grained * face of mine be hid 
 In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, 
 And all the conduits of my blood froze up, 
 Yet hath my night of life some memory, 
 My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left, 
 My dull deaf ears a little use to hear : 
 All these old witnesses — I cannot err — 
 Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. 
 
 * Furrowed, lined. 
 
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 ACT I. 
 
 SELF-DENIAL. 
 
 Brave conquerors ! — for so you are 
 That war against your own affections 
 And the huge army of the world's desires. 
 
 VANITY OF PLEASURE. 
 
 Why, all delights are vain ; but that most vain, 
 Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain. 
 
 ON STUDY. 
 
 Study is like the heaven's glorious sun 
 
 That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks ; 
 Small have continual plodders ever won, 
 
 Save base authority from others' books. 
 These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights 
 
 That give a name to every fixed star 
 Have no more profit of their shining nights 
 
 Than those that walk and wot not what they are. 
 Too much to know is to know naught but fame : 
 And every godfather can give a name. 
 
Uyve's Labour 's Lost. 29 
 
 FROST. 
 
 An envious sneaping^ frost, 
 That bites the first-born infants of the spring. 
 
 A CONCEITED COURTIER. 
 
 A man in all the world's new fashion planted. 
 
 That hath a mint of phrases in his brain ; 
 One whom the music of his own vain tongue 
 
 Doth ravish like enchanting harmony ; 
 A man of complements, whom right and wrong 
 
 Have chose as umpire of their mutiny : 
 This child of fancy that Armado hight ^ 
 
 For interim to our studies, shall relate, 
 In high-born words the worth of many a knight 
 
 From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 My beauty, though but mean, 
 Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ; 
 Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye. 
 Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. 
 
 A MERRY MAN. 
 
 A merrier man, 
 Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
 
 1 Nipping. 2 Is called. 
 
30 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 I never spent an hour's talk withal : 
 His eye begets occasion for his wit ; 
 For every object that the one doth catch, 
 The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ; 
 Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, 
 Delivers in such apt and gracious words 
 That aged ears play truant at his tales 
 And younger hearings are quite ravished ; 
 So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF LOVE. 
 
 And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's 
 
 whip; 
 A very beadle to a humorous sigh ; 
 A critic, nay, a night-watch constable ; 
 A domineering pedant o'er the boy, 
 Than whom no mortal so magnificent ! 
 This wimpled,* whining, purblind, wayward boy; 
 This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid ; 
 Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms. 
 The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
 Liege of all loiterers and malcontents. 
 Dread prince of plackets, '^ king of codpieces. 
 Sole imperator and great general 
 Of trotting 'paritors.^ — O my little heart ! — 
 And I to be a corporal of his field, 
 
 1 Hooded, veiled. * Petticoats. 
 
 3 The officers of the spiritual courts, who serve citations. 
 
Lome's Labour 's Lost. 31 
 
 And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop ! 
 What, I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! 
 A woman, that, is like a German clock, 
 Still a-repairing, ever out of frame. 
 And never going aright, being a watch. 
 But being watch'd that it may still go right ! 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye 
 
 'Gainst whom the world can not hold argument 
 Persuade my heart to this false perjury? 
 
 Vows for thee broke, deserve not punishment. 
 A woman I forswore ; but I will prove. 
 
 Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee : 
 My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love ; 
 
 Thy grace being gained, cures all disgrace in me. 
 Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is : 
 
 Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, 
 Exhalest this vapour-vow ; in thee it is : 
 
 If broken then, it is no fault of mine ; 
 If by me broke, what fool is not so wise 
 To lose an oath to win a paradise ? 
 
 SONG. 
 
 On a day — alack the day ! — 
 Love, whose month in every May, 
 Spied a blossom passing fair 
 
32 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Playing in the wanton air ; 
 Through the velvet leaves the wind 
 All unseen, can passage find ; 
 That the lover, sick to death, 
 Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
 Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow ; 
 Air, would I might triumph so ! 
 But, alack, my hand is sworn, 
 Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn ; 
 Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, 
 Youth so apt to pluck a sweet ! 
 Do not call it sin in me. 
 That I am forsworn for thee ; 
 Thou for whom Jove would swear 
 Juno but an Ethiope were ; 
 And deny himself for Jove, 
 Turning mortal for thy love. 
 
 THE POWER OF LOVE. 
 
 But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
 Lives not alone immured in the brain ; 
 But, with the motion of all elements. 
 Courses as swift as thought in every power ; 
 And gives to every power a double power, 
 Above their functions and their offices. 
 It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; 
 A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; 
 A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
 when the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd ; 
 Love's feeling is more soft and sensible 
 
Love's Labour 's Lost. 33 
 
 Than are the tender horns of cockled snails ; 
 
 Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste : 
 
 For valour, is not Love a Hercules, 
 
 Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? 
 
 Subtle as sphinx ; as sweet and musical 
 
 As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; 
 
 And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods 
 
 Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. 
 
 Never durst poet touch a pen to write 
 
 Until his ink were tempered with Love's sighs ; 
 
 O, then his lines would ravish savage ears. 
 
 And plant in tyrants mild humility. 
 
 women's eyes. 
 
 From women's eyes this doctrine I derive ; 
 They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
 They are the books, the arts, the academes 
 That show, contain and nourish all the world ; 
 Else none at all in aught proves excellent. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 JEST AND JESTER. 
 
 Rosaline. Your task shall be. 
 With all the fierce' endeavour of your wit 
 To enforce the pained impotent to smile. 
 
 Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of 
 death? 
 
 * Vehement. 
 
34 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 It can not be ; it is impossible : 
 Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 
 
 Ros. Why, that 's the way to choke a gibing 
 spirit, 
 Whose influence is begot of that loose grace 
 Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools : 
 A jest's prosperity lies in the ear 
 Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
 Of him that makes it. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 spring. When daisies pied and violets blue 
 And lady-smocks all silver-white 
 And cuckoo-buds of yellow-hue 
 
 Do paint the meadows with delight, 
 The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
 Mocks married men ; for thus sings he, 
 
 Cuckoo ; 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo ; O word of fear, 
 Unpleasing to a married ear ! 
 
 When shepherds pipe on oaten straws 
 And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, 
 
 When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws. 
 And maidens bleach their summer smocks, 
 
 The cuckoo then, on every tree. 
 
 Mocks married men, for thus sings he, 
 Cuckoo ; 
 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo : O word of fear, 
 
 Unpleasing to a married ear ! 
 
Love's Labour 's Lost, 35 
 
 Winter. When icicles hang by the wall 
 
 And Dick the shepherd blows his nail 
 And Tom bears logs into the hall, 
 
 And milk comes frozen home in pail. 
 When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
 
 Ttt-whit ; 
 Tu-who, a merry note. 
 While greasy Joan doth keel • the pot. 
 
 When all aloud the wind doth blow 
 
 And coughing drowns the parson's saw 
 
 And birds sit brooding in the snow 
 And Marian's nose looks red and raw, 
 
 When roasted crabs ^ hiss in the bowl, 
 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
 Tu-whit ; 
 
 Tu-who, a merry note. 
 
 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 
 
 1 Cool. a Wild apples. 
 
MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 ACT l.^ 
 
 VIRTUE GIVEN TO BE EXERTED. 
 
 Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, 
 
 Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues 
 
 Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike 
 
 As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touchM 
 
 But ':o fine issues,' nor Nature never lends 
 
 The smallest scruple of her excellence 
 
 But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 
 
 Herself the glory, of a creditor, 
 
 Both thanks and use.'^ 
 
 THE CONSEQUENCE OF LIBERTY INDULGED. 
 
 As surfeit is the father of much fast. 
 So every scope by the immoderate use 
 Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, 
 Like rats that ravin ^ down their proper bane, 
 A thirsty evil ; and when we drink we die. 
 
 ELOQUENCE AND BEAUTY. 
 
 In her youth 
 There is a prone * and speechless dialect, 
 
 1 For high purposes. ' Interest. 
 
 ' Voraciously devour. * Prompt. 
 
Measure for Measure. 37 
 
 Such as move men ; beside, she hath prosperous art 
 When she will play with reason and discourse, 
 And well she can persuade. 
 
 PARDON THE SANCTION OF WICKEDNESS. 
 
 For we bid this be done. 
 When evil deeds have their permissive pass 
 And not the punishment. 
 
 A SEVERE GOVERNOR. 
 
 Lord Angelo is precise ; 
 Stands at a guard ^ with envy ; scarce confesses 
 That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
 Is more to bread than stone : hence shall we see. 
 If power change purpose, what our seemers be. 
 
 RESOLUTION. 
 
 Our doubts are traitors 
 And make us lose the good we oft might win 
 By fearing to attempt. 
 
 THE PRAYERS OF MAIDENS EFFECTUAL. 
 
 Go to Lord Angelo, 
 And let him learn to know, when maidens sue. 
 Men give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel, 
 All their petitions are as freely theirs 
 As they themselves would owe 2 them. 
 
 1 On his defence, 2 Have. 
 
38 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 ALL MEN FRAIL. 
 
 Let but your honour know.i 
 
 Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, 
 
 That, in the working of your own affections, 
 
 Had time cohered ^ with place or place with wishing, 
 
 Or that the resolute acting of your blood 
 
 Could have attained the effect of your own purpose. 
 
 Whether you had not sometime in your life 
 
 Err'd in this point which now you censure him. 
 
 And puird the law upon you. 
 
 THE FAULTS OF OTHERS NO JUSTIFICATION OF 
 OUR OWN. 
 
 'T is one thing to be tempted, Escalus, 
 Another thing to fall. I not deny. 
 The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, 
 May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two 
 Guiltier than him they try. What 's open made to 
 
 justice, 
 That justice seizes : what know the laws. 
 That thieves do pass ^ on thieves ? 'T is very preg- 
 nant,* 
 The jewel that we find, we stoop and take 't. 
 Because we see it ; but what we do not see 
 We tread upon, and never think of it. 
 
 1 Examine. * Suited. 
 
 8 Pass judgment. * Plain. 
 
Measure for Measure, 39 
 
 You may not so extenuate his offence 
 
 For ' I have had such faults ; but rather tell me. 
 
 When I, that censure^ him, do so offend, 
 
 Let mine own judgement pattern out my death, 
 
 And nothing come in partial. 
 
 MERCY FREQUENTLY MISTAKEN. 
 
 Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so ; 
 Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. 
 
 MERCY IN GOVERNORS COMMENDED. 
 
 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs. 
 Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, 
 The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe. 
 Become them with one half so good a grace, 
 As mercy does. 
 
 THE DUTY OF MUTUAL FORGIVENESS. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! 
 Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once ; 
 And He that might the vantage best have took 
 Found out the remedy. How would you be, 
 If He, which is the top of judgement, should 
 But judge you as you are? O, think on that ; 
 And mercy then will breathe within your lips, 
 Like man new made. 
 
 1 Because. • Sentence. 
 
40 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 JUSTICE. 
 
 Isabella. Yet show some pity. 
 
 Aiigelo. I show it most of all when I show justice ; 
 For then I pity those I do not know, 
 Which a dismissed offence would after gall ; 
 And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, 
 Lives not to act another. 
 
 THE ABUSE OF AUTHORITY. 
 
 O, it is excellent 
 To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
 To use it like a giant. 
 Could great men thunder, 
 
 As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
 For every pelting,^ petty officer 
 Would use his heaven for thunder ; 
 Nothing but thunder ! Merciful Heaven, 
 Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt 
 Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled * oak 
 Than the soft myrtle : but man, proud man 
 Drest in a little brief authority. 
 Most ignorant of what he 's most assured, 
 His glassy essence, like an angry ape, 
 Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven 
 As make the angels weep ; who, with our spleens, 
 Would all themselves laugh mortal. 
 
 1 Paltry. 2 Knotted. 
 
Measure for Measure. 41 
 
 THE PRIVILEGE OF AUTHORITY. 
 
 Great men may jest with saints ; 't is wit in them, 
 But in the less foul profanation. 
 That in the captain 's but a choleric word, 
 Which in the soldier is fiat blasphemy. 
 
 HONEST BRIBERY. 
 
 Isabella. Hark, how I Ul bribe you : good my 
 
 lord, turn back. 
 Angela. How! bribe me? 
 Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share 
 
 with you. 
 Lucio. [Aside to Isabella. ~\ You had marr'd all 
 
 else. 
 Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested ^ gold. 
 Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor 
 As fancy values them ; but with true prayers 
 That shall be up at heaven and enter there 
 Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved ^ souls, 
 From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate 
 To nothing temporal. 
 
 THE POWER OF VIRTUOUS BEAUTY. 
 
 Is this her fault or mine ? 
 The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? 
 Ha! 
 Not she ; nor does she tempt : but it is I 
 
 * Attested, stamped. 
 
 •Preserved from the corruption of the world. 
 
42 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 That, lying by the violet in the sun, 
 
 Do as the carrion does, not as the flower. 
 
 Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be 
 
 That modesty may more betray our sense 
 
 Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground 
 
 enough. 
 Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary. 
 And pitch our evils there? ' O, fie, fie, fie ! 
 What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? 
 Dost thou desire her foully for those things 
 That make her good? O, let her brother live : 
 Thieves for their robbery have authority 
 When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her, 
 That I desire to hear her speak again. 
 And feast upon her eyes ? What is 't I dream on ? 
 O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, 
 With saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous 
 Is that temptation that doth goad us on 
 To sin in loving virtue : never could the' strumpet, 
 With all her double vigour, art and nature, 
 Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous maid 
 Subdues me quite. 
 
 LOVE IN A GRAVE SEVERE GOVERNOR. 
 
 When I would pray and think, I think and pray 
 To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words ; 
 Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, 
 Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, 
 As if I did but only chew his name ; 
 
 iSee 2 Kings, x. 27. 
 
Measure for Measure, 43 
 
 And in my heart the strong and swelling evil 
 Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied, 
 Is like a good thing, being often read. 
 Grown fear'd and tedious ; yea, my gravity, 
 Wherein — let no man hear me — I take pride, 
 Could I with boot ^ change for an idle plume. 
 Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, 
 How often dost thou with thy case,^ thy habit, 
 Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls 
 To thy false seeming? 
 
 FORNICATION AND MURDER EQUALLED. 
 
 It were as good 
 To pardon him that hath from nature stolen 
 A man already made, as to remit 
 Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image. 
 In stamps that are forbid : 't is all as easy 
 Falsely to take away a life true made 
 As to put metal in restrained means 
 To make a false one. 
 
 LOWLINESS OF MIND. 
 
 Isabella. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing 
 good. 
 But graciously to know I am no better. 
 
 Angelo. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most 
 bright 
 When it doth tax itself. 
 
 1 Profit. a Outside. 
 
44 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 TEMPORAL FAR BETTER THAN ETERNAL DEATH. 
 
 Better it were a brother died at once, 
 Than that a sister, by redeeming him, 
 Should die for ever. 
 
 women's frailty. 
 Angela. Nay, women are frail too. 
 Isabella. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- 
 selves ; 
 Which are as easy broke as they make forms. 
 Women ! Help Heaven ! men their creation mar 
 In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail ! 
 For we are soft as our complexions are, 
 And credulous to false prints.* 
 
 ACT in. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 The miserable have no other medicine 
 But only hope. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON THE VANITY OF LIFE. 
 
 Reason thus with life : 
 If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing 
 That none but fools would keep : a breath thou art. 
 Servile to all the skyey influences, 
 
 1 Impressions. 
 
Measure for Measure. 45 
 
 That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, 
 
 Hourly afflict : merely, thou art death's fool ; 
 
 For him thou labourist by thy flight to shun 
 
 And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not 
 
 noble ; 
 For all the accommodations that thou bear'st 
 Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means 
 
 valiant ; 
 For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
 Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, 
 And that thou oft provokest ; yet grossly fear'st 
 Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; 
 For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains 
 That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not ; 
 For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, 
 And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain ; 
 For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, 
 After the moon. If thou art rich, thouVt poor ; 
 For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows. 
 Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey. 
 And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none ; 
 For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire. 
 The mere effusion of thy proper loins. 
 Do curse the gout, serpigo,^ and the rheum. 
 For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth noi 
 
 age, 
 But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep. 
 Dreaming on both ; for all thy blessed youth 
 }3ecomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
 Of palsied eld ; ^ and when thou art old and rich, 
 
 1 Leprous eruptions. 2 Old age. 
 
46 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, 
 To make thy riches pleasant. What 's yet in this, 
 That bears the name of life? Yet in this iife 
 Lie hid moe thousand deaths : yet death we fear, 
 That makes these odds all even. 
 
 THE TERRORS OF DEATH MOST IN APPREHENSION. 
 
 O, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake, 
 Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, 
 And six or seven winters more respect 
 Than a perpetual honour. Barest thou die ? 
 The sense of death is most in apprehension ; 
 And the poor beetle, that we tread upon. 
 In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
 As when a giant dies. 
 
 RESOLUTION FROM A SENSE OF HONOUR. 
 
 Why give you me this shame ? 
 Think you I can a resolution fetch 
 From flowery tenderness? If I must die, 
 I will encounter darkness as a bride, 
 And hug it in mine arms. 
 
 THE HYPOCRISY OF ANGELO. 
 
 There my father's grave 
 Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: 
 Thou art too noble to conserve a life 
 In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,— 
 Whose settled visage and deliberate word 
 
Measure for Measure 47 
 
 Nips youth T the head and follies doth emmew,' 
 As falcon doth the fowl, i; yet a devil ; 
 His filth within being cast, he would appear 
 A pond as deep as hell. 
 
 THE TERRORS OF DEATH. 
 
 Claudia. Death is a fearful thing. 
 
 Isabella. And shamed life a hateful. 
 
 Claudia. Ay, but to die, and go we know nol 
 where ; 
 To lie in cold obstruction and to rot ; 
 This sensible warm motion to become 
 A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
 To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
 In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice ; 
 To be imprisoned in the viewless 2 winds, 
 And blown with restless violence round about 
 The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst 
 Of those, that lawless and incertain thought 
 Imagine howling : 'tis too horrible ! 
 The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
 That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
 Can lay on nature is a paradise 
 To what we fear of death. 
 
 VIRTUE AND GOODNESS. 
 
 Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. 
 
 1 Shut up. J Invisible. 
 
48 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A BAWD. 
 
 The evil thiit thou causest to be done, 
 
 That is thy means to live. Do thou but think 
 
 What 't is to cram a maw or clothe a back 
 
 From such a filthy vice : say to thyself, 
 
 From their abominable and beastly touches 
 
 I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. 
 
 Canst thou believe thy living is a life. 
 
 So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Take, oh take, those lips away, 
 
 That so sweetly were forsworn ; 
 And those eyes, the break of day. 
 
 Lights that do mislead the morn. 
 But my kisses bring again, bring again ; 
 Seals of love, but seaPd in vain, seal'd in vain. 
 
 [Hide, oh hide, those hills of snow. 
 
 Which thy frozen bosom bears. 
 On whose tops the pinks that grow 
 
 Are of those that April wears : 
 But my poor heart first set free. 
 Bound in those icy chains by thee.] 
 
Measure for Measure. 49 
 
 GREATNESS SUBJECT TO CENSURE. 
 
 O place and greatness ! millions of false eyes 
 Are stuck upon thee : volumes of report 
 Run with these false and most contrarious quests 
 Upon thy doings : thousand escapes' of wit 
 Make thee the father of their idle dreams 
 And rack thee in their fancies. 
 
 SOUND SLEEP. 
 
 As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour 
 When it lies starkly'' in the traveller's bones. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 CHARACTER OF AN ARCH HYPOCRITE. 
 
 prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest 
 There is another comfort than this world, 
 That thou neglect me not, with that opinion 
 
 That I am touched with madness ! Make not impos- 
 sible 
 That which but seems unlike : 'tis not impossible, 
 But one, the wicked'st caitiif on the ground, 
 May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute. 
 As Angelo ; even so may Angelo, 
 In all his dressings,^ characts, titles, forms. 
 Be an arch- villain ; believe it, royal prince : 
 If he be less, he 's nothing ; but he 's more, 
 Had I more name for badness. 
 
 1 Sallies. 2 Stiffly. » Habits and characters of office. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 ACT I. 
 
 MIRTH AND MELANCHOLY. 
 
 Now, by two-headed Janus, 
 Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes 
 And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, 
 And other of such vinegar aspect 
 That they '11 not show their teeth in way of smile, 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
 WORLDLINESS. 
 
 You have too much respect upon the world ; 
 They lose it that do buy it with much care. 
 
 THE world's true VALUE. 
 
 I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
 A stage, where every man must play a part. 
 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 Let me play the fool : 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine 
 
The Merchant of Venice, 51 
 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 
 Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice 
 By being peevish ? 
 
 AFFECTED GRAVITY. 
 
 I tell thee what, Antonio, — 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks — 
 There are a sort of men whose visages 
 Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, 
 And do a wilful stillness ^ entertain, 
 With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, 
 As who should say ' I am Sir Oracle, 
 And when I ope my lips let no dog bark ! ' 
 O my Antonio, I do know of these 
 That therefore only are reputed wise 
 For saying nothing. 
 
 LOQUACITY. 
 
 Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more 
 than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two 
 grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you 
 shall seek all day ere you find them, and, when you 
 have them, they are not worth the search. 
 
 1 Obstinate silence. 
 
5 2 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 MEDIOCRITY. 
 
 For aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with 
 too much as they that starve with nothing. It is no 
 mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean : 
 superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but com- 
 petency lives longer. 
 
 SPECULATION MORE EASY THAN PRACTICE. 
 
 If to do were as easy as to know what were good 
 to do, chapels had been churches and poor men's 
 cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that 
 follows his own instructions : I can easier teach 
 twenty what were good to be done, than be one of 
 the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The 
 brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot tem- 
 per leaps o'er a cold decree : such a hare is madness 
 the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel 
 the cripple. 
 
 THE JEW'S MALICE. 
 
 Bassanio. This is Signior Antonio. 
 
 Shy lock. \^Aside.'\ How like a fawning publican 
 he looks ! 
 I hate him for he is a Christian, 
 But more for that in low simplicity 
 He lends out money gratis and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
 
The Merchant of Venice. 53 
 
 He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
 Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
 If I forgive him ! 
 
 HYPOCRISY. 
 
 Mark you this, Bassanio, 
 The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
 An evil soul producing holy witness 
 Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 
 
 THE JEW'S EXPOSTULATION. 
 
 Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
 In the Rialto you have rated me 
 About my moneys and my usances : ' 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug. 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
 Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say, 
 * Shylock, we would have moneys :' you say so; 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard 
 A.nd foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 
 
 1 Interest. 
 
54 Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. 
 
 What should I say to you? Should I not say 
 
 ' Hath a dog money ? is it possible 
 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? ' Or 
 
 Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key, 
 
 With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 
 
 Say this ; 
 
 ' Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
 
 You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
 
 You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies 
 
 I '11 lend you thus much moneys? ' 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 GRAVITY ASSUMED. 
 
 Signior Bassanio, hear me : 
 If I do not put on a sober habit. 
 Talk with respect and swear but now and then. 
 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely, 
 Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
 Thus with my hat, and sigh and say * amen,' 
 Use all the observance of civility. 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent * 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 THE JEW'S COMMANDS TO HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum 
 And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife, 
 
 1 Show of staid and serious demeanour. 
 
The Merchant of Venice. 55 
 
 Clamber not you up to the casements then. 
 Nor thrust your head into the public street 
 To gaze on Christian fools with varnished faces, 
 But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 
 Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
 My sober house. 
 
 POSSESSION MORE LANGUID THAN EXPECTATION. 
 
 Salarino. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont 
 To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 
 
 Gratiano. That ever holds : who riseth from a 
 feast 
 With that keen appetite that he sits down? 
 Where is the horse that doth untread again 
 His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
 That he did pace them first ? All things that are, 
 Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
 How like a younker or a prodigal 
 The scarfed ' bark puts from her native bay, 
 Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind ! 
 How like a prodigal doth she return, 
 With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind ! 
 
 PORTIA'S SUITORS. 
 
 From the four corners of the earth they come, 
 To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint : 
 
 1 Decorated with flags. 
 
56 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
 
 Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now. 
 
 For princes to come view fair Portia : 
 
 The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
 
 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
 
 To stop the foreign spirits, but they come, 
 
 As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
 
 THE PARTING OF FRIENDS. 
 
 I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
 
 Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
 
 Of his return ; he answered, ' Do not so ; 
 
 Slubber * not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
 
 But stay the very riping of the time ; 
 
 And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me. 
 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
 
 Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts 
 
 To courtship and such fair ostents * of love 
 
 As shall conveniently become you there : ' 
 
 And even there, his eye being big with tears. 
 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him. 
 
 And with affection wondrous sensible 
 
 He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 
 
 HONOUR TO BE CONFERRED ON MERIT ONLY 
 
 For who shall go about 
 To cozen fortune and be honourable 
 Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume 
 
 1 To slubber is to do a thing carelessly. 
 « Shows, tokens. 
 
The Merchant of Venice, 57 
 
 To wear an undeserved dignity. 
 
 O, that estates, degrees and offices 
 
 Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour 
 
 Were purchased by the merit of the wearer ! 
 
 How many then should cover that stand bare ! 
 
 How many be commanded that command ! 
 
 How much low peasantry would then be glean'd 
 
 From the true seed of honour ! and how much honour 
 
 Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times 
 
 To be new-varnish'd ! 
 
 LOVE MESSENGER COMPARED TO AN APRIL DAY. 
 
 I have not seen 
 So likely an ambassador of love : 
 A day in April never came so sweet, 
 To show how costly summer was at hand, 
 As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 THE JEW'S REVENGE. 
 
 If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. 
 He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a mill- 
 ion ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, 
 scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my 
 friends, heated mine enemies ; and what 's his reason? 
 I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a 
 Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, 
 passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the 
 
58 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed 
 by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same 
 winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick 
 us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not 
 laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you 
 wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you 
 in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew 
 wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. 
 If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his suffer- 
 ance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The 
 villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go 
 hard but I will better the instruction. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 Let music sound while he doth make his choice ; 
 
 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end. 
 
 Fading in music : that the comparison 
 
 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream 
 
 And watery death-bed for him. He may win ; 
 
 And what is music then ? Then music is 
 
 Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 
 To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 
 
 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear 
 
 And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 
 
 With no less presence,^ but with much more love, 
 
 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
 
 The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 
 To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ; 
 
 * Dignity of mien. 
 
The Merchant of Venice, 59 
 
 The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 
 With bleared visages, come forth to view 
 The issue of the exploit. 
 
 THE DECEIT OF ORNAMENT OR APPEARANCES. 
 
 The world is still deceived with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
 But, being seasoned with a gracious ' voice, 
 Obscures the show of evil? In religion. 
 What damned error, but some sober brow 
 Will bless it and approve' it with a text. 
 Hiding the grossiiess with fair ornament? 
 There is no vice so simple but assumes 
 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, 
 Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ; 
 And these assume but valour's excrement 
 To render them redoubted ! Look on beauty. 
 And you shall see 't is purcha^d by the weight ; 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
 Makmg them lightest that wear most of it : 
 So are those crisped * snaky golden locks 
 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind. 
 Upon supposed fairness, often known 
 To be the dowry of a second head. 
 The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 
 Thus ornament is but the guiled ^ shore 
 
 1 Winning favour. * Curled. » Treacherous. 
 
6o Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scart 
 Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 
 The seeming truth which cunning times put on 
 To entrap the wisest. 
 
 PORTIA'S PICTURE. 
 
 Bassanio. What find I here ? 
 
 \Opening the leaden casket. "^ 
 Fair Portia's counterfeit ! * What demi-god 
 Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
 Or whether, riding on the balls of mine. 
 Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, 
 Parted with sugar breath : so sweet a bar 
 Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs 
 The painter plays the spider and hath woven 
 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men 
 Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, — 
 How could he see to do them? having made one, 
 Methinks it should have power to steal both his 
 And leave itself unfurnish'd. 
 
 SUCCESSFUL LOVER COMPARED TO A CONQUEROR. 
 
 Like one of two contending in a prize, 
 That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
 Hearing applause and universal shout. 
 Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
 Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 
 So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so. 
 
 1 Likeness, portrait. 
 
The Merchant of Venice, 6i 
 
 HIS THOUGHTS TO THE INARTICULATE JOYS OF A 
 CROWD. 
 
 There is such confusion in my powers, 
 
 As, after some oration fairly spoke 
 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
 
 Among the buzzing pleased multitude ; 
 
 Where every something, being blent ^ together. 
 
 Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
 
 Expressed and not expressed. 
 
 IMPLACABLE REVENGE. 
 
 Shy lock. I '11 have my bond ; I will not hear thee 
 speak : 
 I '11 have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 I '11 not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool. 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. 
 
 THE BOASTING OF YOUTH. 
 
 I '11 hold thee any wager. 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 I '11 prove the prettier fellow of the two. 
 And wear my dagger with the braver grace. 
 And speak between the change of man and boy 
 With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 
 Into a manly stride, and speak of frays 
 Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies, 
 
 i Blended. 
 
62 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 How honourable ladies sought my love. 
 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
 
 1 could not do withal ; then I '11 repent. 
 
 And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them 
 
 And twenty of these puny lies I '11 tell, 
 
 That men shall swear I have discontinued school 
 
 Above a twelvemonth. 
 
 AFFECTATION IN WORDS. 
 
 O dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words ; and I do know 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 
 Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
 Defy the matter. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 THE JEW'S REASON FOR REVENGE. 
 
 You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
 A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 
 Three thousand ducats : I '11 not answer that : 
 But, say, it is my humour:^ is it answer'd? 
 What if my house be troubled with a rat 
 And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 
 To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 
 Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 
 Some, that are mad if they behold a cat ; 
 
 ^ 1 Particular fancy. 
 
The Merchant of Venice, 63 
 
 And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose, 
 
 Can not contain their urine : for affection, ' 
 
 Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 
 
 Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer : 
 
 As there is no firm reason to be rendered, 
 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping ^ pig ; 
 
 Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 
 
 Why he, a wollen bagpipe ; but of force 
 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame 
 
 As to offend, himself being offended ; 
 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not. 
 
 More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 
 
 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? 
 
 MERCY. 
 
 The quality of mercy is not strain'd. 
 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
 
 It blesseth him that gives and him that takes : 
 
 'T is mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
 
 The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. 
 
 The attribute to awe and majesty. 
 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
 
 But mercy is above this scepter'd sway ; 
 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings^ 
 
 It is an attribute to God himself; 
 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
 
 When mercy seasons justice. 
 
 » Prejudice. » Squealing. 
 
64 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 FORTUNE. 
 
 For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
 Than is her custom : it is still her use 
 To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
 An ag^ of poverty. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 MOONLIGHT. 
 
 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines ' of bright gold : 
 There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we can not hear it. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 Jessica. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 Lorenzo. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
 
 1 A small flat dish, used in the administration of the Eucharist. 
 
The Merchant of Venice, 65 
 
 Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 
 
 Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound. 
 
 Or any air of music touch their ears. 
 
 You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
 
 By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet 
 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and 
 
 floods ; 
 Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage. 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 The man that hath no music in himself, 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
 And his affections dark as Erebus : 
 Let no such man be trusted. 
 
 A GOOD DEED COMPARED. 
 
 How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 NOTHING GOOD OUT OF SEASON. 
 
 The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark 
 When neither is attended, and I think 
 The nightingale, if she should sing by day. 
 When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
 No better a musician than the wren. 
 
66 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 How many things by season seasoned are 
 To their right praise and true perfection ! — 
 Peace, ho ! The moon sleeps with Endymion, 
 And would not be awaked ! 
 
 MOONLIGHT NIGHT. 
 
 This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick;' 
 It looks a little paler : 't is a day, 
 Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
 
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 A father's authority. 
 
 To you your father should be as a god ; 
 
 One that composed your beauties, yea, and one 
 
 To whom you are but as a form in wax 
 
 By him imprinted and within his power 
 
 To leave the figure or disfigure it. 
 
 A RECLUSE LIFE. 
 
 Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires ; 
 Know of your youth, examine well your blood, 
 Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, 
 You can endure the livery of a nun, 
 For aye ' to be in shady cloister mew'd, 
 To live a barren sister all your life. 
 Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. 
 Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood, 
 To undergo such maiden pilgrimage ; 
 But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, 
 Than that which withering on the virgin thorn 
 Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness. 
 
 1 Ever. 
 
68 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 TRUE LOVE EVER CROSSED. 
 
 For aught that I could ever read, 
 Could ever hear by tale or history, 
 The course of true love never did run smooth ; 
 But, either it was different in blood, 
 Or else misgraffed in respect of years ; 
 Or else it stood upon the choice of friends : 
 Or, if there were a sympathy in choice. 
 War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it ; 
 Making it momentany ^ as a sound. 
 Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; 
 Brief as the lightning in the collied ^ night, 
 That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. 
 And ere a man hath power to say ' Behold ! ' 
 The jaws of darkness do devour it up : 
 So quick bright things come to confusion. 
 
 ASSIGNATION. 
 
 I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, 
 
 By his best arrow with the golden head. 
 
 By the simplicity of Venus' doves. 
 
 By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves. 
 
 And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, 
 
 When the false Troyan under sail was seen, 
 
 By all the vows that ever men have broke, 
 
 In number more than ever women spoke 
 
 In that same place thou hast appointed me, 
 
 To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 
 
 1 Momentary. ' Black. 
 
A Midsummer-night's Dream. 69 
 
 THE MOON. 
 
 When Phoebe doth behold 
 Her silver visage in the watery glass, 
 Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Things base and vile, holding no quantity, 
 
 Love can transpose to form and dignity : 
 
 Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; 
 
 And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind : 
 
 Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste ; 
 
 Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste : 
 
 And therefore is Love said to be a child. 
 
 Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. 
 
 As waggish boys in game ^ themselves forswear, 
 
 So the boy Love is perjured every where. 
 
 ACT n. 
 
 PUCK. 
 
 I am that merry wanderer of the night. 
 
 I jest to Oberon and make him smile 
 
 When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, 
 
 Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : 
 
 And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, 
 
 In very likeness of a roasted crab,'"* 
 
 And when she drinks, against her lips I bob 
 
 1 Sport. 2 Wild apple. 
 
70 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. 
 The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 
 Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; 
 Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, 
 And ' tailor ' cries, and falls into a cough ; 
 And then the whole quire hold their hips and lau^ 
 And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear 
 A merrier hour was never wasted there. 
 
 FAIRY JEALOUSY AND THE EFFECTS OF IT. 
 
 These are the forgeries of jealousy : 
 
 And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
 
 Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, 
 
 By paved fountain or by rushy brook, 
 
 Or on the beached margent of the sea. 
 
 To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. 
 
 But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. 
 
 Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, 
 
 As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea 
 
 Contagious fogs ; which falling in the land, 
 
 Have every pelting ' river made so proud. 
 
 That they have overborne their continents : ^ 
 
 The ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain, 
 
 The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn 
 
 Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard ; 
 
 The fold stands empty in the drowned field. 
 
 And crows are fatted with the murrion flock ; 
 
 The nine men's morris ^ is fill'd up with mud, 
 
 1 Petty. « Banks which contain thein. 
 
 9 A game pJayed by boys. 
 
A Midsummer-night's Dream, 71 
 
 And the quaint mazes in the wanton green, 
 
 For lack of tread are undistinguishable : 
 
 The human mortals want their winter here ; 
 
 No night is now with hymn or carol blest : 
 
 Therefore the moon, the governess of floods. 
 
 Pale in her anger, washes all the air. 
 
 That rheumatic diseases do abound : 
 
 And thorough this distemperature we see 
 
 The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts 
 
 Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, 
 
 And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown 
 
 An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
 
 Is, as in mockery, set : the spring, the summer, 
 
 The childing ^ autumn, angry winter, change 
 
 Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, 
 
 By their increase, '^ now knows not which is which. 
 
 LOVE IN IDLENESS. 
 
 Thou rememberest 
 Since once I sat upon a promontory. 
 And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back 
 Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath* 
 That the rude sea grew civil at her song 
 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 
 To hear the sea-maid's music. 
 That very time I saw, but thou couldst not. 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
 Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took 
 
 1 Autumn producing flowers unseasonably. 
 3 Produce. 
 
72 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; 
 
 And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, 
 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ; 
 
 But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
 
 Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, 
 
 And the imperial votaress passed on, 
 
 In maiden meditation, fancy-free.^ 
 
 Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : 
 
 It fell upon a little western flower, — 
 
 Before milk-white ; now purple with love's wound. 
 
 And maidens call it love-in-idleness. 
 
 A FAIRY BANK. 
 
 I know a bank where the wild thyme blows. 
 Where oxlips^ and the nodding violet grows. 
 Quite over-canopied with luscious ^ woodbine, 
 With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine : 
 There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, 
 Luird in these flowers with dances and delight. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 FAIRY COURTESIES. 
 
 Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; 
 Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes ; 
 Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,'' 
 With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; 
 
 » Exempt from love. « The greater cowslip. 
 
 * Vigorous. * Gooseberries. 
 
A Midsummer-night 's Dream. js 
 
 The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, 
 And, for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs 
 And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, 
 To have my love to bed and to arise ; 
 And pluck the wings from painted butterflies 
 To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes : 
 Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 
 
 FEMALE FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Is all the counsel that we two have shared. 
 
 The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 
 
 When we have chid the hasty-footed time 
 
 For parting us, — O, is it all forgot? 
 
 All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? 
 
 We, Hermia, like two artificial ^ gods. 
 
 Have with our needles created both one flower. 
 
 Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion. 
 
 Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; 
 
 As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds. 
 
 Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
 
 Like to a double cherry, seeming parted. 
 
 But yet a union in partition ; 
 
 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem ; 
 
 So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; 
 
 Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 
 
 Due but to one and crowned with one crest. 
 
 And will you rent our ancient love asunder. 
 
 To join with men in scorning your poor friend? 
 
 It is not friendly, 't is not maidenly : 
 
 1 Ingenious. 
 
74 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, 
 Though I alone do feel the injury. 
 
 DAYBREAK. 
 
 Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, 
 
 And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; 
 
 At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and 
 
 there. 
 Troop home to churchyards. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 DEW IN FLOWERS. 
 
 And that same dew, which sometime on the buds 
 Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls. 
 Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes 
 Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. 
 
 HUNTING. 
 
 Theseus. We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's 
 top 
 And mark the musical confusion 
 Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 
 
 Hippolyta. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once. 
 When in the wood of Crete they bay'd the bear 
 With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear 
 Such gallant chiding; ' for, besides the groves, 
 The skies, the fountains, every region near 
 
 1 Sound. 
 
A Midsummer-night' s Dream, 75 
 
 Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard 
 So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. 
 
 HOUNDS. 
 
 My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 
 So flew'd,' so sanded, and their heads are hung 
 With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; 
 Crook-kneed, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; 
 Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, 
 Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
 Was never hoUa'd to, nor cheer'd with horn. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 THE POWER OF IMAGINATION. 
 
 The lunatic, the lover and the poet. 
 
 Ate of imagination all compact :^ 
 
 One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, 
 
 That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, 
 
 Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : 
 
 The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling. 
 
 Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 
 
 heaven ; 
 And, as imagination bodies forth 
 The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
 Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing 
 A local habitation and a name. 
 
 J The flews are the large chaps of a hound. 
 2 Are made of mere imagination. 
 
76 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 SIMPLICITY AND DUTY. 
 
 Theseus. For never anything can be amiss, 
 When simpleness and duty tender it. 
 
 Hippolyta. I love not to see wretchedness over- 
 charged 
 And duty in his service perishing. 
 
 MODEST DUTY ALWAYS ACCEPTABLE. 
 
 Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
 To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; 
 Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
 Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
 Throttle their practised accent in their fears 
 And, in conclusion dumbly have broke off. 
 Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, 
 Out of this silence, yet I pick'd a welcome ; 
 And in the modesty of fearful duty 
 I read as much as from the rattling tongue 
 Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Now the hungry lion roars, 
 
 And the wolf behowls the moon ; 
 
 Whilst the heavy ploughman snores. 
 All with weary task fordone. > 
 
 1 Overcome. 
 
A Midsummer-night's Dream, 77 
 
 Now the wasted brands do glow, 
 
 Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, 
 Puts the wretch that lies in woe 
 
 In remembrance of a shroud. 
 Now, it is the time of night 
 
 That the graves all gaping wide, 
 Every one lets forth his sprite. 
 
 In the church-way paths to glide. 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 ACT I. 
 
 PEACE INSPIRES LOVE. 
 
 Claudia. O, my lord, 
 When you went onward on this ended action, 
 I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, 
 That liked, but had a rougher task in hand 
 Than to drive liking to the name of love : 
 But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts 
 Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
 Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
 All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 
 Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars. 
 
 D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently 
 And tire the hearer with a book of words. 
 If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, 
 And I will break with her and with her father 
 And tnou shall have her. Was 't not to this end 
 That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? 
 
 Claud. How sweetly you do minister to love, 
 That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
 But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
 I would have salved it with a longer treatise. 
 
 D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader 
 than the flood ? 
 
Mitch Ado About Nothing. 79 
 
 The fairest grant is the necessity. 
 
 Look, what will serve is fit: 'tis once,^ thou lovest ; 
 
 And I will fit thee with the remedy. 
 
 I know we shall have revelling to-night : 
 
 1 will assume thy part in some disguise 
 
 And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, 
 
 And in her bosom I '11 unclasp my heart. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP IN LOVE. 
 
 Friendship is constant in all other things 
 
 Save in the office and affairs of love : 
 
 Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues 
 
 Let every eye negotiate for itself 
 
 And trust no agent ; for beauty is a witch, 
 
 Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.' 
 
 MERIT ALWAYS MODEST. 
 
 It is the witness still of excellency 
 
 To put a strange face on his own perfection. 
 
 BENEDICK THE BACHELOR'S RECANTATION. 
 
 This can be no trick: the conference was sadly 
 borne. ^ They have the truth of this from Hero. 
 They seem to pity the lady ; it seems her affections 
 
 1 Once for all. ' Passion. 
 
 » Seriously carried on. 
 
8o Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 have their full bent. Love me ! why, it must be 
 requited. I hear how I am censured : they say I 
 will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come 
 from her ; they say too that she will rather die than 
 give any sign of affection. I did never think to 
 marry : I must not seem proud : happy are they that 
 hear their detractions and can put them to mending. 
 They say the lady is fair ; 't is a truth, I can bear 
 them witness ; and virtuous ; 't is so, I can not re- 
 prove it ; and wise, but for loving me ; by my troth, 
 it is no addition to her wit ; nor no great argument 
 of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. 
 I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of 
 wit broken on me, because I have railed so long 
 against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? 
 a man loves the meat in his youth that he can not 
 endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and 
 these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the 
 career of his humour? No. The world must be 
 peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I 
 did not think I should live till I were married. Here 
 comes Beatrice. By this day! she's a fair lady: 1 
 do spy some marks of love in her. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 FAVOURITES COMPARED TO HONEYSUCKLES. 
 
 — Bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
 Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, 
 like favourites, 
 
Much Ado About Nothing. 8i 
 
 Made proud by princes, that advance their pride 
 Against that power that bred it. 
 
 A SCORNFUL AND SATIRICAL BEAUTY. 
 
 Hero. Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come. 
 As we do trace this alley up and down, 
 Our talk must only be of Benedick. 
 When I do name him, let it be thy part 
 To praise him more than ever man did merit : 
 My talk to thee must be how Benedick 
 Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter 
 Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made. 
 That only wounds by hearsay. 
 
 Enter Beatrice, behind. 
 
 Now begin ; 
 For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
 Close by the ground, to hear our conference. 
 
 Ursula. The pleasanfst angling is to see the 
 fish 
 Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, 
 And greedily devour the treacherous bait : 
 So angle we for Beatrice ; who even now 
 Is couched in the woodbine coverture. 
 Fear you not my part of the dialogue. 
 
 Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose 
 nothing 
 Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. — 
 
 [^Approaching the bower. 
 No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful ; 
 
82 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 I know her spirits are as coy and wild 
 As haggerds of the rock. 
 
 (Jrs. But are you sure 
 
 That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? 
 
 Hero. So says the prince and my new-trothed 
 lord. 
 
 Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? 
 
 Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her of it ; 
 But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, 
 To wish him wrestle with affection, 
 And never to let Beatrice know of it. 
 
 Urs. Why did you so ? Doth not the gentleman 
 Deserve as full as fortunate a bed 
 As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? 
 
 Hero. O god of love ! I know he doth deserve 
 As much as may be yielded to a man : 
 But Nature never framed a woman's heart 
 Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice ; 
 Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes. 
 Misprising what they look on, and her wit 
 Values itself so highly that to her 
 All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, 
 Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 
 She is so self-endeared. 
 
 Urs. Sure, I think so ; 
 
 And therefore certainly it were not good 
 She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. 
 
 Hero. Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw a 
 man. 
 How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, 
 But she would spell him backward : if fair-faced, 
 
Mmh Ado About Nothing, 83 
 
 She would swear the gentleman should be her sister ; 
 
 If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique,' 
 
 Made a foul blot ; if tall, a lance ill-headed ; 
 
 If low, an agate very vilely cut ; 
 
 If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds ; 
 
 If silent, why, a block moved with none. 
 
 So turns she every man the wrong side out 
 
 And never gives to truth and virtue that 
 
 Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 DISSIMULATION. 
 
 O, what authority and show of truth 
 
 Can cunning sin cover itself withal ! 
 
 Comes not that blood as modest evidence 
 
 To witness simple virtue ? Would you not swear, 
 
 All you that see her, that she were a maid, 
 
 By these exterior shows ? But she is none : 
 
 She knows the heat of a luxurious 2 bed : 
 
 Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 
 
 A FATHER LAMENTING HIS DAUGHTER'S INFAMY. 
 
 Grieved I, I had but one? 
 Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ? ^ 
 O, one too much by thee ! Why had I one? 
 Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ? 
 
 1 Fantastic figure, buffoon. 2 Lascivious. 
 
 8 Disposition of things. 
 
84 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Why had I not, with charitable hand, 
 
 Took up a beggar's issue at my gates ; 
 
 Who smirched * thus, and mired with infamy, 
 
 I might have said ' No part of it is mine ; 
 
 This shame derives itself from unknown loins ' ? 
 
 But mine and mine I loved and mine I praised 
 
 And mine that I was proud on ; mine so much, 
 
 That I myself was to myself not mine. 
 
 Valuing of her, — why, she, O, she is fallen 
 
 Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea 
 
 Hath drops too few to wash her clean again. 
 
 INNOCENCE DISCOVERED BY THE COUNTENANCE. 
 
 I have mark'd 
 A thousand blushing apparitions start 
 Into her face, a thousand innocent shames 
 In angel whiteness beat away those blushes; 
 And in her eye there hath appeared a fire, 
 To burn the errors that these princes hold 
 Against her maiden truth. 
 
 RESOLUTION. 
 
 I know not. If they speak but truth of her, 
 These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her hon- 
 our, 
 The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 
 Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 
 Nor age so eat up my invention, 
 
 » Sullied. 
 
Much Ado About Nothing-, 85 
 
 Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, 
 Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, 
 But they shall find, awaked in such a kind. 
 Both strength of limb and policy of mind. 
 Ability in means and choice of friends. 
 To quit me of them throughly. 
 
 THE DESIRE OF BELOVED OBJECTS HEIGHTENED BY 
 THEIR LOSS. 
 
 For it so falls out 
 That what we have we prize not to the worth 
 Whiles * we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, 
 Why, then we rack'^ the value, then we find 
 The virtue that possession would not show us 
 Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio : 
 When we shall hear she died upon ^ his words. 
 The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
 Into his study of imagination. 
 And every lovely organ of her lite 
 Shall come apparelPd in more precious habit. 
 More moving-delicate and full of life. 
 Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 
 Than when she lived indeed. 
 
 TALKING BRAGGARTS. 
 
 But manhood is melted into courtesies,* valour into 
 compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, 
 
 1 While. « Overrate. 
 
 * By. * Ceremony. 
 
86 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 and trim ones too : he is now as valiant as Hercules 
 that only tells a lie and swears it. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 COUNSEL OF NO WEIGHT IN MISERY. 
 
 I pray thee, cease thy counsel, 
 Which falls into mine ears as profitless 
 As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; 
 Nor let no comforter delight mine ear 
 But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. 
 Bring me a father that so loved his child, 
 Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine, 
 And bid him speak of patience ; 
 Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine 
 And let it answer every strain for strain. 
 As thus for thus and such a grief for such. 
 In every lineament, branch, shape, and form : 
 If such a one will smile and stroke his beard. 
 Bid sorrow wag, cry ' hem,' when he should groan, 
 Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk 
 With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me. 
 And I of him will gather patience. 
 But there is no such man ; for, brother, men 
 Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief 
 Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, 
 Their counsel turns to passion, which before 
 Would give preceptial medicine to rage. 
 Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, 
 
Mtich Ado About Nothing. 87 
 
 Charm ache with air and agony with words : 
 
 No, no ; 't is all men's office to speak patience 
 
 To those that wring under the load of sorrow, 
 
 But no man's virtue nor sufficiency 
 
 To be so moral when he shall endure 
 
 The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel : 
 
 My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 
 
 SATIRE ON THE STOIC PHILOSOPHERS. 
 
 I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood ; 
 For there was never yet philosopher 
 That could endure the toothache patiently, 
 However they have writ the style of gods 
 And made a push at chance and sufferance. 
 
 TALKING BRAGGARTS. 
 
 Hold you content. What, man ! I know them, yea, 
 And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple, — 
 Scambling,^ out-facing, fashion-monging ^ boys, 
 That lie and cog ^ and flout, deprave and slander. 
 Go anticly, show outward hideousness. 
 And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, 
 How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst ; 
 And this is all. 
 
 VILLAIN TO BE NOTED. 
 
 Which is the villain? let me see his eyes. 
 That, when I note another man like him, 
 I may avoid him. 
 
 1 Turbulent. « Foppish. s Cheat. 
 
88 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 DAYBREAK. 
 
 The wolves have prey'd ; and look, the gentle day, 
 Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 
 Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray. 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 HOUNDS. 
 
 Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them 
 And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 
 
 PAINTING. 
 
 Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight 
 
 Adonis painted by a running brook, 
 
 And Cytherea all in sedges hid, 
 
 Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, 
 
 Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 woman's tongue. 
 
 Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? 
 Have I not in my time heard lions roar? 
 Have I not heard the sea puflPd up with winds 
 Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat? 
 Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, 
 And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies ? 
 Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
 
90 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Loud Uarums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? 
 And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, 
 That gives not half so great a blow to hear 
 As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire ? 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 A MARRIAGE PORTION. 
 
 My house within the city 
 Is richly furnished with plate and gold ; 
 Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands ; 
 My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry ; 
 In ivory coffers I have stuffed my crowns ; 
 In cypress chests my arras counterpoints. 
 Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, 
 Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl. 
 Valance of Venice gold in needlework, 
 Pewter and brass and all things that belong 
 To house or housekeeping : then, at my farm 
 I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail. 
 Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls, 
 And all things answerable to this portion. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 A MAD WEDDING. 
 
 Gremio. When the priest. 
 Should ask, if Katharine should be his wife, 
 ' Ay, by gogs-wouns,' quoth he ; and swore so loud, 
 
The Taming of the Shrew. 91 
 
 That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book ; 
 And, as he stoop'd again to take it up, 
 This mad-brained bridegroom took him such a cuff 
 That down fell priest and book and book and 
 
 priest : 
 ' Now take them up,' quoth he, ' if any list.' 
 
 Tranio. What said the wench when he rose again? 
 
 Gremio. Trembled and shook ; for why, he stamped 
 and swore. 
 As if the vicar meant to cozen him. 
 But after many ceremonies done. 
 He calls for wine : ' A health,' quoth he, as if 
 He had been aboard, carousing to his mates 
 After a storm ; quaff 'd off the muscadel ' 
 And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ; 
 Having no other reason 
 But that his beard grew thin and hungerly 
 And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. 
 This done, he took the bride about the neck 
 And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack 
 That at the parting all the church did echo. 
 
 A DOMINEERING HUSBAND. 
 
 I will be master of what is mine own : 
 
 She is my goods, my chattels ; she is my house, 
 
 My household stuff, my field, my barn. 
 
 My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything ; 
 
 And here she stands, touch her whoever dare ; 
 
 1 It was the custom for the company present to drink wine im- 
 mediately after the marriage ceremony. 
 
92 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 I Ul bring mine action on the proudest he 
 That stops my way. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 THE MIND ALONE VALUABLE. 
 
 For H is the mind that makes the body rich ; 
 And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds. 
 So honour peereth ^ in the meanest habit. 
 What is the jay more prtcious than the lark, 
 Because his feathers are more beautiful? 
 Or is the adder better than the eel, 
 Because his painted skin contents the eye? 
 O, no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse 
 For this poor furniture and mean array. 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL GENTLEWOMAN. 
 
 Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? 
 Such war of white and red within her cheeks ! 
 What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, 
 As those two eyes become that heavenly face ? 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 THE wife's duty TO HER HUSBAND. 
 
 Fie, fie ! unknit that threatening unkind brow, 
 And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
 To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor : 
 
 » Appeareth. 
 
The Taming of the Shrew, 93 
 
 It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, 
 
 Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, 
 
 And in no sense is meet or amiable. 
 
 A woman moved is like a fountain troubled. 
 
 Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ; 
 
 And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
 
 Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. 
 
 Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper. 
 
 Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee. 
 
 And for thy maintenance commits his body 
 
 To painful labour both by sea and land. 
 
 To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
 
 Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe ; 
 
 And craves no other tribute at thy hands 
 
 But love, fair looks and true obedience ; 
 
 Too little payment for so great a debt. 
 
 Such duty as the subject owes the prince 
 
 Even such a woman oweth to her husband ; 
 
 And when she 's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
 
 And not obedient to his honest will. 
 
 What is she, but a foul contending rebel 
 
 And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? 
 
 I am ashamed that women are so simple 
 
 To offer war where they should kneel for peace. 
 
 Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway, 
 
 When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 
 
 Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, 
 
 Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ; 
 
 But that our soft conditions ' and our hearts 
 
 Should well agree with our external parts? 
 
 * Gentle tempers. 
 
THE TEMPEST. 
 ACT I. 
 
 A USURPING SUBSTITUTE COMPARED TO IVY. 
 
 He was 
 The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, 
 And suck'd my verdure out on 't. 
 
 ARIEL'S DESCRIPTION OF MANAGING THE STORM. 
 
 Ariel. All hail, great master ! grave sir, hail ! I 
 come 
 To answer thy best pleasure ; be 't to fly. 
 To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride 
 On the curPd clouds : to thy strong bidding task 
 Ariel and all his quality. 
 
 Prospero. Hast thou, spirit, 
 Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee? 
 
 Ariel. To every article. 
 I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak. 
 Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 
 I flamed amazement : sometimes, I 'Id divide, 
 And burn in many places ; on the topmast. 
 The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly. 
 Then meet, and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors 
 O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 
 
The Tempest. 95 
 
 And sight-outrunning were not ; the fire and cracks 
 Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune 
 Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, 
 
 Yea, his dread trident shake. 
 
 Not a soul, 
 
 But felt a fever of the mad and play'd 
 Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners 
 Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, 
 Then all afire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand, 
 With hair up-staring, — then like reeds, not hair, — 
 Was the first man that leaped ; cried, ' Hell is 
 
 empty. 
 And all the devils are here.' 
 
 PROSPERO REPROVING ARIEL. 
 
 Prospero. Dost thou forget 
 From what a torment I did free thee ? 
 
 Ariel. No. 
 
 Prospero. Thou dost, and think'st it much to 
 tread the ooze 
 Of the salt deep, 
 
 To run upon the sharp wind of the north, 
 To do me business in the veins o' the earth 
 When it is baked with frost. 
 
 CALIBAN'S CURSES. 
 
 Caliban. As wicked dew as e'er my mother 
 brush'd 
 With raven's feather from unwholesome fen 
 
96 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye 
 And blister you all o'er ! 
 
 Prospero. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt 
 have cramps. 
 Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins i 
 Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, 
 All exercise on thee ; thou shalt be pinch'd 
 As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging 
 Than bees that made 'em. 
 
 Cal. I must eat my dinner. 
 
 This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother. 
 Which thou takest from me. When thou camest 
 
 first 
 Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me, 
 
 would'st give me 
 Water with berries in 't, and teach me how 
 To name the bigger light, and how the less. 
 That burn by day and night : and then I loved 
 
 thee 
 And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle. 
 The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and 
 
 fertile : 
 Cursed be I that did so ! All the charms 
 Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! 
 For I am all the subjects that you have, 
 Which first was mine own king : and here you sty 
 
 me 
 In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 
 The rest o' the island. 
 
 ^Fairies. 
 
The Tempest, 97 
 
 CALIBAN'S EXULTATION AFTER PROSPERO TELLS HIM 
 HE SOUGHT TO VIOLATE THE HONOUR OF HIS 
 CHILD. 
 
 O ho, O ho ! — would 't had been done ! 
 Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else 
 This isle with Calibans. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 Where should this music be ? i' the air, or the earth ? 
 It sounds no more : and, sure, it waits upon 
 Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, 
 Weeping again the king my father's wreck. 
 This music crept by me upon the waters, 
 Allaying both their fury and my passion 
 With its sweet air : thence I have follow'd it, 
 Or it hath drawn me rather. But 't is gone. 
 No, it begins again. 
 
 Ariel sings. 
 
 Full fathom five thy father lies ; 
 Of his bones are coral made ; 
 Those are pearls that were his eyes : 
 
 Nothing of him that doth fade 
 But doth suffer a sea-change 
 Into something rich and strange. 
 Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : 
 Burthen. Ding-dong. 
 Ariel. Hark ! now I hear them, — Ding-dong, bell. 
 
98 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A PERFECT MAN. 
 
 There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple : 
 If the ill spirit have so fair a house, 
 Good things will strive to dwell with 't. 
 
 A lover's speech. 
 
 My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
 My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, 
 The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, 
 To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
 Might I but through my prison once a day 
 Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth 
 Let liberty make use of; space enough 
 Have I in such a prison. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 description of FERDINAND'S SWIMMING ASHORE. 
 
 I saw him beat the surges under him. 
 
 And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water. 
 
 Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
 
 The surge most swoln that met him ; his bold head 
 
 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 
 
 Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
 
 To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed. 
 
 As stooping to relieve him : I not doubt 
 
 He came alive to land. 
 
The Tempest. 99 
 
 IDEAL ANARCHY. 
 
 V the Commonwealth I would by contraries 
 Execute all things ; for no kind of traffic 
 Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; 
 Letters should not be known ; riches, poverty, 
 And use of service, none ; contract, succession, 
 Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none ; 
 No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil ; 
 No occupation ; all men idle, all ; 
 And women, too, but innocent and pure ; 
 No sovereignty ; 
 
 All things in common nature should produce 
 Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony. 
 Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, 
 Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, 
 Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, 
 To feed my innocent people. 
 
 SLEEP. 
 
 Do not omit the heavy offer of it : 
 
 It seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth. 
 
 It is a comforter. 
 
 A FINE APOSIOPESIS. 
 
 They fell together all, as by consent ; 
 They dropped, as by a thunder-stroke. What might. 
 Worthy Sebastian ? O, what might ? — No more : — 
 And yet methinks I see it in thy face, 
 
loo Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 What thou shouldst be : the occasion speaks thee, and 
 My strong imagination sees a crown 
 Dropping upon thy head. 
 
 CALIBAN'S CURSES. 
 
 All the infections that the sun sucks up 
 
 From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him 
 
 By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me 
 
 And yet I needs must curse. But they '11 nor pinch, 
 
 Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire, 
 
 Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark 
 
 Out of my way, unless he bid 'em ; but 
 
 For every trifle are they set upon me ; 
 
 Sometime hke apes that mow ^ and chatter.at me 
 
 And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which 
 
 Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount 
 
 Their pricks at my footfall ; sometime am I 
 
 All wound with adders who with cloven tongues, 
 
 Do hiss me into madness. Lo ! now, lo ! 
 
 Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me. 
 
 For bringing wood in slowly. I '11 fall flat ; 
 
 Perchance he will not mind me. 
 
 SATIRE ON ENGLISH CURIOSITY. 
 
 Were I in England now, as once I was, and had 
 but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but 
 would give a piece of silver: there would this monster 
 make a man ; any strange beast there makes a man : 
 
 iMake mouths. 
 
The Tempest. loi 
 
 when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beg- 
 gar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. 
 
 CALIBAN'S PROMISES. 
 
 I '11 show thee the best springs ; I '11 pluck thee 
 
 berries ; 
 I '11 fish for thee and get thee wood enough. 
 A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! 
 I '11 bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, 
 Thou wondrous man. 
 
 I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow ; 
 And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts ; 
 Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how 
 To snare the nimble marmoset ; I '11 bring thee 
 To clustering filberts and sometimes I '11 get thee 
 Young scamels ^ from the rock. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 THE WOOING OF MIRANDA. 
 
 Ferdinand. There be some sports are painful, 
 and their labour 
 Delight in them sets oif : some kinds of baseness 
 Are nobly undergone and most poor matters 
 Point to rich ends. This my mean task 
 Would be as heavy to me as odious, but 
 The mistress which I serve quickens what 's dead, 
 And makes my labours pleasures : O, she is 
 
 1 Bar-tailed godwits. 
 
I02 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Ten times more gentle than her father 's crabbed, 
 And he 's composed of harshness. I must remove 
 Some thousands of these logs and pile them up, 
 Upon a sore injunction : my sweet mistress 
 Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such base- 
 ness 
 Had never like executor. I forget : 
 But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my 
 
 labours ; 
 Most busy lest, when I do it. 
 
 Enter Miranda ; and Prospero at a distance^ unseen. 
 
 Miranda. Alas, now, pray you, 
 
 Work not so hard : I would, the lightning had 
 Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined to pile ! 
 Pray, set it down, and rest you : when this burns, 
 'T will weep for having wearied you. My father 
 Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; 
 He's safe for these three hours. 
 
 Fer. O most dear mistress, 
 
 The sun will set, before I shall discharge 
 What I must strive to do. 
 
 Mir a. If you Ul sit down, 
 
 I '11 bear your logs the while : pray give me that ; 
 I '11 carry it to the pile. 
 
 Fer. No, precious creature ; 
 
 I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
 Than you should such dishonour undergo, 
 While I sit lazy by. 
 
 Mir a. It would become me 
 
 As well as it does you : and I should do it 
 
The Tempest. 103 
 
 With much more ease ; for my good will is to it, 
 And yours it is against. 
 
 Pro. Poor worm ! thou art infected ! 
 
 This visitation shows it. 
 
 Mir a. You look wearily. 
 
 Fer. No, noble mistress ; 't is fresh morning with 
 me 
 When you are by at night. I do beseech you — 
 Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers — 
 What is your name? 
 
 Mir a. Miranda. — O my father, 
 
 I have broke your hest^ to say so ! 
 
 Fer. Admired Miranda 
 
 Indeed the top of admiration ! worth 
 What 's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady 
 I have eyed with best regard and many a time 
 The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
 Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues 
 Have I liked several women ; never any 
 With so full soul, but some defect in her 
 Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed * 
 And put it to the foil : but you, O you, 
 So perfect and so peerless, are created 
 Of every creature's best. 
 
 Mir a. I do not know 
 
 One of my sex ; no woman's face remember, 
 Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
 More that I may call men than you, good friend. 
 And my dear father : how features are abroad, 
 
 1 Command. « Owned. 
 
104 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 1 am skilless of; but, by my modesty, 
 The jewel in my dower, I would not wish 
 Any companion in the world but you, 
 Nor can imagination form a shape, 
 Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle 
 Something too wildly and my father's precepts 
 I therein do forget. 
 
 Fer. I am in my condition 
 
 A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; 
 I would, not so ! — and would no more endure 
 This wooden slavery, than to suffer 
 The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak : 
 The very instant that I saw you, did 
 My heart fly to your service ; there resides, 
 To make me slave to it ; and for your sake 
 Am I this patient log-man. 
 
 Mira. Do you love me? 
 
 Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to tliis sound 
 And crown what I profess with kind event 
 If I speak true ! if hollowly, invert 
 What best is boded me to mischief! I 
 Beyond all limit of what else ' i' the world 
 Do love, prize, honour you. 
 
 Mira. I am a fool, 
 
 To weep at what I am glad of. 
 
 Pro. Fair encounter 
 
 Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace 
 On that which breeds between them ! 
 
 Fer. Wherefore weep you 1 
 
 * "Whatsoever. 
 
The Tempest. 105 
 
 Mir a. At mine unworthiness that dare not offer 
 What I desire to give, and much less take 
 What I shall die to want. But this is trifling ; 
 And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
 The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! 
 And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
 I am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
 If not, I '11 die your maid : to be your fellow 
 You may deny me ; but I '11 be your servant, 
 Whether you will or no. 
 
 Fer. My mistress, dearest, 
 
 And I thus humble ever. 
 
 Mira. My husband then? 
 
 Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing 
 As bondage e'er of freedom : here 's my hand. 
 
 Mira. And mine, with my heart in 't ; and now 
 farewell 
 Till half an hour hence. 
 
 Fer. A thousand thousand ! 
 
 AN ENCHANTED ISLE. 
 
 The isle is full of noises, 
 Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. 
 Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 
 Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices 
 That if I then had waked after long sleep, 
 Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming. 
 The clouds methought would open and show riches 
 Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, 
 I cried to dream again. 
 
io6 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. 
 
 O, it is monstrous ! monstrous ! 
 Methought the billows spoke and told me of it ; 
 The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, 
 That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced 
 The name of Prosper. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 CONTINENCE BEFORE MARRIAGE. 
 
 If thou dost break her virgin-knot before 
 All sanctimonious ceremonies may 
 With full and holy rite be ministered. 
 No sweet aspersion i shall the heavens let fall 
 To make this contract grow ; but barren hate, 
 Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew 
 The union of your bed with weeds so loathly 
 That you shall hate it both. 
 
 A lover's PROTESTATION. 
 
 As I hope 
 For quiet days, fair issue and long life, 
 With such love as 't is now, the murkiest den, 
 The most opportune place, the strongest suggestion 
 Our worser genius can, shall never melt 
 Mine honour into lust, to take away 
 The edge of that day's celebration 
 
 1 sprinkling. 
 
The Tempest, 107 
 
 When I shall think, or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd. 
 Or Night kept chained below. 
 
 PASSION TOO STRONG FOR VOWS. 
 
 Look thou be true ; do not give dalliance 
 Too much the rein : the strongest oaths are straw 
 To the fire i' the blood : be more abstemious, 
 Or else, good night your vow ! 
 
 VANITY OF HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 These our actors, 
 As I foretold you, were all spirits and 
 Are melted into air, into thin air : 
 And, like the baseless fabric of this vision. 
 The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve 
 And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, ^ 
 Leave not a rack^ behind. We are such stuff 
 As dreams are made on, and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep. 
 
 DRUNKARDS ENCHANTED BY ARIEL. 
 
 I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking ; 
 So full of valour that they smote the air 
 For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground 
 For kissing of their feet ; yet always bending 
 
 1 Vanished. 
 
 *A body of clouds in motion; but it is most probable that the 
 author wrote track. 
 
io8 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor ; 
 At which, like unbackM colts, they pricked their ears, 
 Advanced their eyeUds, lifted up their noses 
 As they smelt music : so I charm'd their ears 
 That calf-like they my lowing followed through 
 Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and 
 
 thorns, 
 Which entered their frail shins : at last I left them 
 V the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell, 
 There dancing up to the chins. 
 
 LIGHTNESS OF FOOT. 
 
 Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not 
 Hear a foot fall. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
 From eaves * of reeds. 
 
 COMPASSION AND CLEMENCY SUPERIOR TO 
 REVENGE. 
 
 Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
 Of their afflictions, and shall not myself. 
 One of their kind, that relish all as sharply. 
 Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art? 
 Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the 
 quick, 
 
 1 Thatch. 
 
The Tempest, 109 
 
 Yet, with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury 
 
 Do I take part : the rarer action is 
 
 In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, 
 
 The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
 
 Not a frown further. 
 
 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 demi-puppets that 
 By moonshine 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 though you be, I have bedimm'd 
 The noontide sun, calPd forth the mutinous winds. 
 And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault 
 Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder 
 Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak 
 With his own bolt : the strong-based promontory 
 Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up 
 The pine and cedar : graves at my command 
 Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth 
 By my so potent art. 
 
 SENSES RETURNING. 
 
 The charm dissolves apace. 
 And as the morning steals upon the night, 
 
no Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
 
 Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
 
 Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo, 
 
 My true preserver, and a loyal sir 
 
 To him thou follow'st ! I will pay thy graces 
 
 Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly 
 
 Didst thou, Alonzo, use me and my daughter: 
 
 Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. 
 
 Thou'rt pinchM for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and 
 
 blood, 
 You brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, 
 Expeird remorse ' and nature ; who, with Sebastian, 
 Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong. 
 Would here have kill'd your king ; I do forgive thee. 
 Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding 
 Begins to swell, and the approaching tide 
 Will shortly fill the reasonable shore 
 That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them, 
 That yet looks on me, or would know me. 
 
 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 summer merrily. 
 Merrily, merrily shall I live now 
 Und^r the blossom that hangs on the bough. 
 
 "* Pity or tenderness of heart. 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 ACT I. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 If music be the food of love, play on ; 
 Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, 
 The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
 That strain again ! it had a dying fall : 
 O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 Jtealing, and giving odour. 
 
 NATURAL AFFECTION ALLIED 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 filPd 
 Her sweet perfections with one self king ! 
 
 ESCAPE FROM DANGER. 
 
 I saw your brother. 
 Most provident in peril, bind himself, 
 
112 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Courage and hope both teaching him the practice, 
 To a strong mast that lived upon the sea ; 
 Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, 
 I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves 
 So long as I could see. 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL BOY. 
 
 Dear lad, believe it ; 
 For they shall yet belie thy happy years, 
 That say thou art a man : Diana's lip 
 Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe 
 Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound. 
 And all is semblative a woman's part. 
 
 DETERMINED LOVE. 
 
 Olivia. Why, what would you? 
 
 Viola. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
 And call upon my soul within the house ; 
 Write loyal cantons ' of contemned love 
 And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; 
 Halloo 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. 
 
 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 
 
 ' What is your parentage? ' 
 * Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : 
 
 1 Cantos, verses. ' Echoing. 
 
Twelfth Night, 113 
 
 I am a gentleman.' I '11 be sworn thou art ; 
 
 Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit, 
 
 Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast; soft, 
 
 soft! 
 Unless the master were the man. How now ! 
 Even so quickly may one catch the plague? 
 Methinks I feel this youth's perfections 
 With an invisible and subtle stealth 
 To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 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. 
 
 TRUE LOVE. 
 
 Come hither, boy : if ever thou shalt love, 
 In the sweet pangs of it remember me ; 
 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 beloved. 
 
 » Dexterous, ready fiend. a Fair deceiver. 
 
114 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 THE WOMAN SHOULD BE YOUNGEST IN LOVE. 
 
 Duke. 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 worn, 
 than women's are. 
 
 Viola. I think it well, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thy- 
 self. 
 Or thy affection can not hold the bent ; 
 For women are as roses, whose fair flower 
 Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour. 
 
 CHARACTER OF AN OLD SONG. 
 
 Come, the song we had last night. 
 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 i 
 Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, ^ 
 And dallies with the innocence of love, 
 Like the old age.' 
 
 1 Lace-makers. ' Simple truth. 
 
 * Times of simplicity. 
 
Twelfth Night. 115 
 
 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 
 
 My poor corpse, where my bones shall be 
 thrown : 
 A thousand thousand sighs to save, 
 
 Lay me, O, where 
 Sad true lover never find my grave, 
 To weep there ! 
 
 CONCEALED LOVE. 
 
 She never told her love. 
 But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 
 Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought. 
 And with a green and yellow melancholy 
 She sat like patience on a monument, 
 Smiling at grief. 
 
ii6 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 GREATNESS. 
 
 In my stars I am above thee ; but be not afraid of 
 greatness : some are born great, some achieve great- 
 ness and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 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, folly fallen, quite taint their wit. 
 
 UNSOUGHT LOVE. 
 
 Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
 
 By maidhood, honour, 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 given unsought is better. 
 
 ^ A hawk not well trained. > In spite of. 
 
Twelfth Night. 117 
 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 I hate ingratitude more in a man 
 Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, 
 Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption 
 Inhabits our frail blood. 
 
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 ACT I. 
 
 LOVE COMMENDED AND CENSURED. 
 
 Proteus. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest 
 
 bud 
 The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
 Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 
 
 Valentine. And writers say, as the most forward 
 
 bud 
 Is eaten by the canker ere it blow. 
 Even so by love the young and tender wit 
 Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, 
 Losing his verdure even in the prime 
 And all the fair effects of future hopes. 
 
 A woman's reason. 
 
 I have no other but a woman's reason ; 
 I think him so because I think him so. 
 
 LOVE FROWARD AND DISSEMBLING. 
 
 Maids, in modesty, say * no,' to that 
 Which they would have the profferer construe ' ay. 
 Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love 
 
The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 119 
 
 That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse 
 And presently all humbled kiss the rod ! 
 
 ADVANTAGE OF TRAVELLING. 
 
 He cannot be a perfect man. 
 Not being tried and tutor'd in the world : 
 Experience is by industry achieved 
 And perfected by the swift course of time. 
 
 LOVE COMPARED TO AN APRIL DAY. 
 
 O, how this spring of love resembleth 
 The uncertain glory of an April day. 
 
 Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away ! 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF A MAN IN LOVE. 
 
 Valentine. How know you that I am in love ? 
 
 Speed. Marry, by these special marks : first, 
 you have learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreath your 
 arms like a malecontent ; to relish a love-song, like 
 a robin-redbreast ; to walk alone, like one that had 
 the pestilence ; to sigh, like a school-boy that had 
 lost his ABC; to weep, like a young wench that 
 had buried her grandam ; to fast, like one that takes 
 diet;* to watch, Hke one that fears robbing; to 
 
 1 Under a regimen. 
 
I20 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.* You 
 were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock ; 
 when you walked, to walk like one of the lions ; 
 when you fasted, it was presently after dinner; 
 when you looked sadly, it was for want of money : 
 and now you are metamorphosed with a mistress, 
 that, when I look on you, I can hardly think you 
 my master. 
 
 AN ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG GENTLEMAN. 
 
 His years but young, but his experience old ; 
 His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe ; 
 And, in a word, for far behind his worth 
 Comes all the praises that I now bestow. 
 He is complete in feature and in mind, 
 With all good grace to grace a gentleman. 
 
 CONTEMPT OF LOVE PUNISHED. 
 
 I have done penance for contemning Love, 
 
 Whose high imperious thoughts have punishM me 
 
 With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, 
 
 With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs ; 
 
 For in revenge of my contempt of love. 
 
 Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes 
 
 And made them watchers of mine own heart's 
 
 •'^orrow. 
 O, gentle Proteus, Love 's a mighty lord ; 
 And hath so humbled me as I confess 
 
 * Allhallowmas 
 
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, 121 
 
 There is no woe to his correction 
 Nor to his service no such joy on earth. 
 Now no discourse, except it be of love ; 
 Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep, 
 Upon the very naked name of love. 
 
 LOVE COMPARED TO A WAXEN IMAGE. 
 
 For now my love is thaw'd ; 
 Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire. 
 Bears no impression of the thing it was. 
 
 LOVE INCREASED BY ATTEMPTS TO SUPPRESS IT. 
 
 Julia. Didst thou but know the inly touch of 
 love. 
 Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow 
 As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 
 
 Lucetta. I do not seek to quench your love's hot 
 fire, 
 But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 
 Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 
 
 Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it 
 burns ; 
 The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
 Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; 
 But, when his fair course is not hindered, 
 He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, 
 Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
 He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. 
 And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
 
122 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 With willing sport to the wild ocean. 
 Then let me go and hinder not my course : 
 I '11 be as patient as a gentle stream 
 And make a pastime of each weary step, 
 Till the last step have brought me to my love ; 
 And there I '11 rest, as, after much turmoil 
 A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 
 
 A FAITHFUL AND CONSTANT LOVER. 
 
 His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles. 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate. 
 His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart, 
 His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 PRESENTS PREVAIL WITH WOMEN. 
 
 Win her with gifts, if she respect not words : 
 
 Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind 
 
 More than quick words do move a woman's mind. 
 
 A lover's BANISHMENT. 
 
 And why not death rather than living torment? 
 To die is to be banish'd from myself; 
 And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her 
 Is self from self; a deadly banishment ! 
 What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? 
 What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? 
 
The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 123 
 
 Unless it be to think that she is by 
 And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
 Except I be by Silvia in the night, 
 There is no music in the nightingale ; 
 Unless I look on Silvia in the day, 
 There is no day for me to look upon. 
 
 BEAUTY PETITIONING IN VAIN. 
 
 Ay, ay ; and she hath offered to the doom — 
 Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force, — 
 A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears : 
 Those at her father's churlish feet she tendered ; 
 With them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
 Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became 
 
 them 
 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. 
 
 iCut. 
 
124 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 THREE THINGS IN MAN DISLIKED BY FEMALES. 
 
 The best way is to slander Valentine 
 
 With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, 
 
 Three things that women highly hold in hate. 
 
 THE POWER OF POETRY WITH FEMALES. 
 
 Proteus. You must lay lime to tangle her desires 
 By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes 
 Should be full fraught with serviceable vows. 
 
 Duke. Ay, 
 
 Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. 
 
 Proteus. 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 poets' sinews, 
 Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, 
 Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 
 Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 
 
 THE POWER OF MUSIC. 
 
 After your dire-lamenting elegies, 
 
 Visit by night your lady's chamber-window 
 
 With some sweet concert ; to their instruments 
 
 Tune a deploring dump : the night's dead silence 
 
 Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance. 
 
77?^ Two Gentlemen of Verona. 125 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Who is Silvia? What is she, 
 
 That all our swains commend her? 
 
 Holy, fair and wise is she ; 
 
 The heaven such grace did lend her 
 
 That she might 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 Silvia, let us sing. 
 
 That Silvia is excelling ; 
 She excels each mortal thing 
 
 Upon the dull earth dwelling : 
 To her let us garlands bring. 
 
 THE POWER OF ACTION. 
 
 At that time I made her weep agood,^ 
 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, 
 
 » In good earnest. 
 
126 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Wept bitterly ; and would I might be dead 
 If I in thought felt not her very sorrow ! 
 
 TRIFLES DETERMINING LOVE, 
 
 Alas, how love can trifle with itself! 
 
 Here is her picture : let me see ; I think. 
 
 If I had such a tire, this face of mine 
 
 Were full as lovely as is this of hers : 
 
 And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, 
 
 Unless I flatter with myself too much. 
 
 Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow ; 
 
 If that be all the difference in his love, 
 
 I '11 get me such a coloured periwig. 
 
 Her eyes are gray as glass, and so are mine : 
 
 Ay, but her forehead 's low, and mine 's as high. 
 
 What should it be that he respects in her 
 
 But I can make respective in myself. 
 
 If this blind Love were not a blinded god? 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 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. 
 
 » Sing. 
 
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, 127 
 
 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, Silvia ; 
 
 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 approved, * 
 When women cannot love where they 're beloved. 
 
 INFIDELITY IN A FRIEND. 
 
 Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand 
 Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, 
 
 1 am sorry I must never trust thee more. 
 But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
 The private wound is deepest. 
 
 REPENTANCE. 
 
 Who by repentance is not satisfied, 
 Is nor of heaven nor earth. 
 
 INCONSTANCY IN MAN. 
 
 Proteus. How ! Julia ! 
 
 Julia. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, 
 
 * Felt, experienced. 
 
128 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 And entertain -d 'em deeply in her heart. 
 How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ! 
 O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush ! 
 Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me 
 Such an immodest raiment, if shame live 
 In a disguise of love : 
 It is the lesser blot, modesty finds. 
 Women to change their shapes than men their 
 minds. 
 
 Pro. Than men their minds ! 't is true. O heaven ! 
 were man 
 But constant, he were perfect. That one error 
 Fills him with faults ; makes him run through all the 
 
 sins: 
 Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins. 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE. 
 ACT I. 
 
 YOUTHFUL INNOCENCE. 
 
 We were, fair queen, 
 Two lads that thought there was no more behind, 
 But such a day to-morrow as to-day, 
 And to be boy eternal. 
 
 We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' the sun. 
 And bleat the one at the other : what we changed 
 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 reared 
 With stronger blood, we should have answer'd 
 
 heaven 
 Boldly * Not Guilty ; ' the imposition clear'd, 
 Hereditary ours.' 
 
 FONDNESS OF A FATHER FOR HIS CHILD. 
 
 Leontes. Are you so fond of your young prince 
 as we 
 Do seem to be of ours? 
 
 1 Setting aside original sin. 
 
1 30 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 THE CHILD THE FATHER OF THE MAN. 
 
 Leontes. Looking on the lines 
 
 Of my boy's face, methought I did recoil 
 Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd, 
 In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled, 
 Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, 
 As ornaments oft do, too dangerous : 
 How like, methought, I then was to this kernel. 
 This squash, this gentleman. 
 
 Polixenes. 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. 
 
 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, 
 That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? 
 Why, then the world, and all that 's in 't, is nothing ; 
 
 * Disorders of the eye. 
 
The Winter's Tale. 131 
 
 The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing ; 
 My wife is nothing ; nor nothing have these nothings, 
 If this be nothing. 
 
 REGICIDES DETESTABLE. 
 
 To do this deed, 
 Promotion follows. If I could find example 
 Of thousands that had struck anointed kings 
 And flourished after, I 'Id not do 't ; but since 
 Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one, 
 Let villany itself forswear 't. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE SOMETIMES HURTFUL. 
 
 There may be in the cup 
 A spider ^ steep'd, and one may drink, depart. 
 And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge 
 Is not infected : but if one present 
 The abhorred ingredient to his eye, make known 
 How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides. 
 With violent hefts. 2 
 
 SORROW TOO DEEP FOR TEARS. 
 
 Good my lords, 
 I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
 
 1 Spiders were esteemed poisonous in our author's time. 
 
 2 Heavings. 
 
132 Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 Commonly are ; the want of which vain dew 
 Perchance shall dry your pities : but I have 
 That honourable grief lodg'd here which burns 
 Worse than tears drown. 
 
 ELOQUENCE OF SILENT INNOCENCE. 
 
 The silence often of pure innocence 
 Persuades, when speaking fails. 
 
 FAMILY RESEMBLANCE. 
 
 Behold, my lords, 
 Although the print be little, the whole matter 
 And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip. 
 The trick of 's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley, 
 The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek, 
 His smiles. 
 The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger. 
 
 EXPOSING AN INFANT. 
 
 Com* on, poor babe : 
 Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens 
 To be thy nurses ! Wolves and bears, they say, 
 Casting their savageness aside have done 
 Like offices of pity. 
 
The Winter's Tale. 133 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 INNOCENCE. 
 
 If powers divine 
 Behold our human actions, as they do, 
 I doubt not then but innocence shall make 
 False accusation blush and tyranny 
 Tremble at patience. 
 
 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. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A GHOST APPEARING IN A DREAM. 
 
 I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o' the dead 
 May walk again : if such thing be, thy mother 
 Appear^ 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 fiird, and so becoming : in pure white robes, 
 Like very sanctity, she did approach 
 
134 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 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 prithee, call 't ; 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 : 
 
 Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, 
 
 I will be squared by this. 
 
 THE INFANT EXPOSED. 
 
 Poor wretch, 
 That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed 
 To loss and what may follow ! Weep I cannot, 
 But my heart bleeds ; and most accursed am I 
 To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell ! 
 The day frowns more and more ; thou 'rt like to have 
 A lullaby too rough. 
 
The Winter's Tale, 135 
 
 A clown's description of a wreck. 
 
 I would you did but see how it chafes, how it 
 rages, how it takes up the shore ! but that 's not to 
 the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor 
 souls ! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em ; 
 now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, 
 and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you 'Id 
 thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the 
 land service, to see how the bear tore out his shoul- 
 der-bone ; how he cried to me for help and said his 
 name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an 
 end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragoned ^ 
 it : but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea 
 mocked them ; and how the poor gentleman roared 
 and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than 
 the sea or weather. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 A GARLAND FOR OLD MEN. 
 
 Reverend sirs, 
 For you there 's rosemary and rue ; these keep 
 Seeming and savour ^ all the winter long ; 
 Grace and remembrance be to you both, 
 And welcome to our shearing ! 
 
 1 Swallowed. » Likeness and smell. 
 
136 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 NATURE AND ART. 
 
 Perdita. Sir, the year growing ancient, 
 
 Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
 Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season 
 Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, 
 Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind 
 Our rustic garden 's barren ; and I care not 
 To get slips of them. 
 
 Polixenes, Wherefore, gentle maiden. 
 
 Do you neglect them? 
 
 Per. For ^ I have heard it said 
 
 There is an art which in their piedness shares 
 With great creating nature. 
 
 Pol. Say, there be ; 
 
 Yet nature is made better by no mean 
 But nature makes that mean : so, over that art 
 Which you say adds to nature, is an art 
 That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry 
 A gentler scion to the wildest stock ; 
 And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
 By bud of nobler race : this is an art 
 Which does mend nature, change it rather, but 
 The art itself is nature. 
 
 Perdita. So it is. 
 
 A GARLAND FOR MIDDLE-AGED MEN. 
 
 I ni not put 
 The dibble ^ in earth to set one slip of them ; 
 
 1 Because. ■ A tool to set plants. 
 
The Winter's Tale, 137 
 
 No more than, were I painted I would wish 
 This youth should say 't were well and only therefore 
 Desire to breed by me. Here 's flowers for you ; 
 Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; 
 The marigold that goes to bed wi' the sun 
 And with him rises weeping : these are flowers 
 Of middle summer, and I think they are given 
 To men of middle age. 
 
 A GARLAND FOR YOUNG MEN. 
 
 Camillo. I should leave grazing, were I of your 
 flock. 
 And only live by gazing. 
 
 Perdita. Out, alas ! 
 You Ud be so lean, that blasts of January 
 Would blow you through and through. Now, my 
 
 fair'st friend, 
 I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might 
 Become your time of day ; and yours, and yours. 
 That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
 Your maidenheads growing : O Proserpina, 
 For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall 
 From Dis's ^ waggon ! daffodils. 
 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 
 
 1 Pluto. 
 
138 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 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 friend, 
 To strew him o^er and o'er. 
 
 A lover's commendation. 
 
 What you do, 
 Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, 
 I 'Id have you do it ever : when you sing, 
 I 'Id have you buy and sell so, so give alms. 
 Pray so, and, for the ordering 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 are doing in the present deed, 
 That all your acts are queens. 
 
 A PRETTY LASS. 
 
 Polixenes. This is the prettiest low-born lass that 
 ever 
 Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does or seems 
 But smacks of something greater than herself, 
 Too noble for this place. 
 
 CafHillo. He tells her something 
 
 That makes her blood look out : good sooth, she is 
 The queen of curds and cream. 
 
The Winter's Tale, 139 
 
 TRUE LOVE. 
 
 He says he loves my daughter : 
 I think so too ; for never gaz'd the moon 
 Upon the water as he '11 stand and read 
 As 't were my daughter's eyes : and, to be plain, 
 I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, 
 Who loves another best. 
 
 PRESENTS LIGHTLY REGARDED BY REAL LOVERS. 
 
 Polixenes. 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 a care 
 Of happy holding her. 
 
 Florizel. Old sir, I know 
 
 She prizes not such trifles as these 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 life 
 Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, 
 
 1 Bought, trafficked. 2 Put to difficulties. 
 
140 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Hath sometime loved ! I take thy hand, this hand, 
 
 As soft as dove's down and as white as it, 
 
 Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fanned snow tliat 's 
 
 bolted ' 
 By the northern blasts twice o'er. 
 
 THE WORTH OF LOVE. 
 
 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 
 More than was ever man's, I would not prize them 
 Without her love ; for her employ them all ; 
 Commend them and condemn them to her service 
 Or to their own perdition. 
 
 A FATHER THE BEST GUEST AT HIS SON'S NUPTIALS. 
 
 Polixenes. Methinks a father 
 Is at the nuptial of his son a guest 
 That best becomes the table. Pray you once more, 
 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? 
 
 Florizel. No, good sir ; 
 
 1 The sieve used to separate flour from bran is called a bolting- 
 cloth. 
 *Talk over his affairs. 
 
The Winter's Tale, 141 
 
 He has his health and ampler strength indeed 
 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 reason. 
 The father, all whose joy is nothing else 
 But fair posterity, should hold some counsel 
 In such a business. 
 
 RURAL SIMPLICITY. 
 
 I was not much afeard ; for once or twice 
 I was about to speak and tell him plainly. 
 The selfsame sun that shines upon his court, 
 Hides not his visage from our cottage but 
 Looks on alike. 
 
 LOVE CEMENTED BY PROSPERITY, BUT LOOSENED 
 BY ADVERSITY. 
 
 Prosperity 's the very bond of love. 
 
 Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 
 
 Affliction alters. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 WONDER PROCEEDING FROM SUDDEN JOY. 
 
 There was speech in their dumbness, language in 
 their very gesture ; they looked as they had heard of 
 a world ransomed, or one destroyed : a notable pas- 
 
142 Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 sion of wonder appeared in them ; but the wisest be- 
 holder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say 
 if the importance ^ were joy or sorrow : but in the 
 extremity of the one, it must needs be. 
 
 A STATUE. 
 
 Leontes. What was he that did make it? See, 
 my lord. 
 Would you not deem it breathed? and that those 
 
 veins 
 Did verily bear blood ? 
 
 Polixenes. Masterly done : 
 
 The very life seems warm upon her lip. 
 
 Leon. The fixture of her eye has motion in't.* 
 As ^ we are mock'd with art. 
 Still, methinks 
 
 There is an air comes from her : what fine chisel 
 Could ever yet cut breath ? Let no man mock me, 
 For I will kiss her. 
 
 A WIDOW COMPARED TO A TURTLE-DOVE. 
 
 I, an old turtle. 
 Will wing me to some wither'd bough and there 
 My mate, that 's never to be found again, 
 Lament till I am lost. 
 
 iThe thing imported. 
 
 » i.e. Though her eye be fixed, it seems to have motion in it. 
 •8 As if. 
 
PART II. 
 
 HISTORICAL PLAYS 
 
 CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED. 
 
HISTORICAL PLAYS. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 ACT I. 
 
 NEW TITLES. 
 
 ' Good den/ Sir Richard,' — ' God-a-mercy, fellow ! 
 
 And if his name be George, I '11 call him Peter : 
 
 For new-made honour doth forget men's names ; 
 
 'T is too respective ^ and too sociable. 
 
 For your conversion.^ Now your traveller, 
 
 He and his toothpick at my worship's mess. 
 
 And when my knightly stomach is sufficed. 
 
 Why then I suck my teeth and catechize 
 
 My picked man of countries : '' ' My dear sir,' 
 
 Thus leaning on mine elbow, I begin, 
 
 ' I shall beseech you ' — that is question now : 
 
 And then comes answer like an Absey book : ^ 
 
 ' O sir,' says answer, ♦ at your best command ; 
 
 At your employment ; at your service, sir.' 
 
 * No, sir,' says question, ' I, sweet sir, at yours : ' 
 
 1 Good evening. * Respectable. 
 
 3 Change of condition. * My travelled fop. 
 
 6 Catechism. 
 
146 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And so, ere answer knows what question would, 
 
 Saving in dialogue of compliment ; 
 
 And talking of the Alps and Apennines, 
 
 The Pyrenean, and the river Po, 
 
 It draws toward supper in conclusion so. 
 
 But this is worshipful society 
 
 And fij:s the mounting spirit, like myself, 
 
 For he is but a bastard to the time. 
 
 That doth not smack of observation. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF ENGLAND. 
 
 I will no more return. 
 Till Anglers and the right thou hast in France, 
 Together with that pale, that white-faced shore. 
 Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides. 
 And coops from other lands her islanders, 
 Even till that England, hedged in with the main, 
 That water- walled bulwark, still secure 
 And confident from foreign purposes. 
 Even till that utmost corner of the west 
 Salute thee for her king. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF AN ENGLISH ARMY. 
 
 His marches are expedient > to this town, 
 His forces strong, his soldiers confident. 
 With him along is come the mother-queen, 
 
 1 Immediate, expeditious. 
 
King John, 147 
 
 An Ate,' stirring him to blood and strife; 
 With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain ; 
 With them a bastard of the king's deceased ; 
 And all the unsettled humours of the land, 
 Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, 
 With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens. 
 Have sold their fortunes at their native homes. 
 Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, 
 To make a hazard of new fortunes here : 
 In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits. 
 Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er 
 Did never float upon the swelling tide. 
 To do offence and scath^ in Christendom. 
 The interruption of their churlish drums 
 Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand, 
 To parley or to fight. 
 
 COURAGE. 
 
 King Philip. How much unlook'd for is this ex- 
 pedition ! 
 
 Austria. By how much unexpected, by so much 
 We must awake endeavour for defence ; 
 For courage mounteth with occasion. 
 
 A BOASTER. 
 
 What cracker is this same that deafs our ears 
 With this abundance of superfluous breath ? 
 
 1 The Goddess of Revenge. 
 ' Mischief. 
 
148 Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF VICTORY BY THE FRENCH HERALD. 
 
 You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, 
 And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in, 
 Who, by the hand of France this day hath made 
 Much work for tears in many an English mother, 
 Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground ; 
 Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, 
 Coldly embracing the discoloured earth ; 
 And victory, with little loss, doth play 
 Upon the dancing banners of the French, 
 Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, 
 To enter conquerors, and to proclaim 
 Arthur of Bretagne England's king and yours. 
 
 VICTORY DESCRIBED BY THE ENGLISH HERALD. 
 
 Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells ; 
 
 King John, your king and England's, doth approach, 
 
 Commander of this hot malicious day : 
 
 Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright. 
 
 Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood ; 
 
 There stucjc no plume in any English crest 
 
 That is removed by a staff of France ; 
 
 Our colours do return in those same hands 
 
 That did display them when we first march'd forth ; 
 
 And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come 
 
 Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, 
 
 Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes : 
 
 Open your gates and give the victors way. 
 
King John, 149 
 
 A COMPLETE LADY. 
 
 If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, 
 Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch ? 
 If zealous ^ love should go in search of virtue, 
 Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? 
 If love ambitious sought a match of birth, 
 Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch? 
 
 POWERFUL EFFECTS OF SELF-INTEREST. 
 
 Rounded 2 in the ear 
 With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil. 
 That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith. 
 That daily break-vow, he that wins of all. 
 Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, 
 Who having no external thing to lose 
 But the word * maid,' cheats the poor maid of that. 
 That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity, 
 Commodity, the bias of the world. 
 The world, who of itself is peised "* well, 
 Made to run even upon even ground, 
 Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias. 
 This sway of motion, this Commodity, 
 Makes it take head from all indifferency. 
 From all direction, purpose, course, intent : 
 And this same bias, this Commodity, 
 This bawd , this broker, this all-changing word 
 Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, 
 
 1 Pious. 2 Conspired. 
 
 8 Interest. * Poised, balanced* 
 
150 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Hath drawn him from his own determined aid, 
 From a resolved and honourable war, 
 To a most base and vile-concluded peace. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 A woman's fears. 
 
 Thou shalt be punishM for thus frighting me, 
 
 For I am sick and capable ^ of fears, 
 
 Oppress'd with wrongs and therefore full of fears, 
 
 A widow, husbandless, subject to fears, 
 
 A woman, naturally born to fears ; 
 
 And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, 
 
 With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce. 
 
 But they will quake and tremble all this day. 
 
 TOKENS OF GRIEF. 
 
 What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? 
 Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? 
 What means that hand upon that breast of thine? 
 Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum. 
 Like a proud river peering' o'er his bounds? 
 Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? 
 Then speak again ; not all thy former tale. 
 But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 
 
 » Susceptible. 
 
King John. 151 
 
 A mother's fondness for a beautiful child. 
 
 Arthur : I do beseech you, madam, be content. 
 
 Constance: If thou, that bid'st me be content, 
 wert grim 
 Ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb. 
 Full of unpleasing blots and sightless ^ stains, 
 Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,^ 
 Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks, 
 I would not care, I then would be content ; 
 For then I should not love thee, no, nor thou 
 Become thy great birth nor deserve a crown. 
 But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, 
 Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great ; 
 Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, 
 And with the half-blown rose. 
 
 GRIEF. 
 
 I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ; 
 
 For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop. 
 
 COWARDICE AND PERJURY. 
 
 O Lymoges ! O Austria ! thou dost shame 
 
 That bloody spoil : thou slave, thou wretch, thou 
 
 coward ! 
 Thou little valiant, great in villany ! 
 Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ! 
 Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight 
 
 1 Unsightly. 2 Portentous. 
 
152 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 But when her humorous ladyship is by 
 
 To teach thee safety ! thou art perjured too, 
 
 And soothest up greatness. What a fool art thou, 
 
 A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear 
 
 Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave. 
 
 Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side, 
 
 Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend 
 
 Upon thy stars, thy fortune and thy strength. 
 
 And dost thou now fall over to my foes? 
 
 Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff ^ it for shame. 
 
 And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. 
 
 THE HORRORS OF A CONSPIRACY. 
 
 I had a thing to say, but let it go : 
 
 The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, 
 
 Attended with the pleasures of the world. 
 
 Is all too wanton and too full of gawds ^ 
 
 To give me audience : if the midnight bell 
 
 Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
 
 Sound one unto the drowsy race of night ; 
 
 If this same were a church-yard where we stand, 
 
 And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs. 
 
 Or if that surly spirit, melancholy. 
 
 Had baked thy blood, and made it heavy-thick 
 
 Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, 
 
 Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, 
 
 And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
 
 A passion hateful to my purposes, 
 
 1 Do off. * Showy ornaments. 
 
King John. 153 
 
 Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, 
 Hear me without thine ears and make reply 
 Without a tongue, using conceit " alone. 
 Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ; 
 Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
 I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : 
 But, ah, I will not. 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO DEATH. 
 
 amiable lovely death ! 
 Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! 
 Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, 
 Thou hate and terror to prosperity. 
 
 And I will kiss thy detestable bones 
 
 And put my eye-balls in thy vanity brows 
 
 And ring these fingers with thy household worms 
 
 And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust 
 
 And be a carrion monster like thyself: 
 
 Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest 
 
 And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love, 
 
 O, come to me ! 
 
 A mother's ravings. 
 
 I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine ; 
 My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ; 
 Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost : 
 I am not mad ; I would to heaven I were ! 
 For then, 't is like I should forget myself: 
 
 1 Conception. 
 
154 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 O, if I could, what grief should I forget ! 
 Preach some philosophy to make me mad, 
 And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal ; 
 For being not mad but sensible of grief, 
 My reasonable part produces reason 
 How I may be deliver'd of these woes. 
 And teaches me to kill or hang myself: 
 If I were mad I should forget my son ; 
 Or madly think a babe of clouts were he : 
 I am not mad : too well, too well I feel 
 The different plague of each calamity. 
 
 A mother's grief for the loss of a son. 
 
 Constance : Father cardinal, I have heard you say 
 That we shall see and know our friends in heaven : 
 If that be true, I shall see my boy again ; 
 For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, 
 To him that did but yesterday suspire,^ 
 There was not such a gracious ^ creature born. 
 But now will canker sorrow eat my bud. 
 And chase the native beauty from his cheek 
 And he will look as hollow as a ghost. 
 As dim and meagre as an ague's fit, 
 And so he '11 die ; and, rising so again, 
 When I shall meet him in the court of heaven 
 I shall not know him ; therefore never, never 
 Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. 
 
 Pandulph. You hold too heinous a respect of 
 grief. 
 
 » Breathe. » Graceful. 
 
King John. 155 
 
 Const. He talks to me that never had a son. 
 
 Kmg Philip. You are as fond of grief as of your 
 child. 
 
 Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, 
 Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me. 
 Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words. 
 Remembers me of all his gracious parts, 
 Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; 
 Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ! 
 
 DESPONDENCY. 
 
 There 's nothing in this world can make me joy : ' 
 Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale. 
 Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. 
 
 STRENGTH OF DEPARTING DISEASES. 
 
 Before the curing of a strong disease, 
 Even in the instant of repair and health. 
 The fit is strongest ; evils that take leave. 
 On their departure most of all show evil. 
 
 DANGER TAKES HOLD OF ANY SUPPORT. 
 
 He that stands upon a slippery place 
 Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. 
 
156 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 ARTHUR'S PATHETIC SPEECHES TO HUBERT. 
 
 Arthur. Methinks, no body should be sad but I : 
 Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
 Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
 Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
 So I were out of prison and kept sheep, 
 I should be as merry as the day is long. 
 
 Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ? 
 
 Hubert. Young boy, I must. 
 
 Arthur. And will you? 
 
 Hubert. And I will. 
 
 Arthur. Have you the heart? When your head 
 did but ache, 
 I knit my handkercher about your brows, 
 The best I had, a princess wrought it me, 
 And I did never ask it you again ; 
 And with my hand at midnight held your head. 
 And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
 Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ; 
 Saying, * What lack you ? ' and * Where lies your 
 
 grief ? ' 
 Or, ' What good love may I perform for you ? ' 
 Many a poor man's son would have lien still, 
 And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; 
 But you at your sick service had a prince. 
 Nay, you may think my love was crafty love 
 
King John. 157 
 
 And call it cunning : do, an if you will : 
 
 If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, 
 
 Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? 
 
 These eyes, that never did nor never shall 
 
 So much as frown on you? 
 
 Alas, what need you be so boisterous-rough? 
 
 I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
 
 For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
 
 Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, 
 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
 
 I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word. 
 
 Nor look upon the iron angerly : 
 
 Thrust but these men away, and I '11 forgive you, 
 
 Whatever torment you do put me to. 
 
 Is there no remedy? 
 
 Herbert. None, but to lose your eyes. 
 
 Arthur. O heaven, that there were but a mote in 
 yours, 
 A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, 
 Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
 Then, feeling what small things' are boisterous there, 
 Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 
 
 PERFECTION ADMITS OF NO ADDITION. 
 
 To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
 To throw a perfume on the violet, 
 To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
 Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
 
158 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, » 
 Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. 
 
 In this, the antique and well-noted face 
 
 Of plain old form is much disfigured, 
 
 And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, 
 
 It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about. 
 
 Startles and frights consideration, 
 
 Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected. 
 
 For putting on so new a fashioned robe. 
 
 THE COUNTENANCE OF A MURDERER. 
 
 This is the man should do the bloody deed ; 
 The image of a wicked heinous fault 
 Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his 
 Does show the mood of a much troubled breast. 
 
 A STRUGGLING CONSCIENCE. 
 
 The colour of the king doth come and go 
 Between his purpose and his conscience. 
 Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set : 
 His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. 
 
 NEWS-BEARERS. 
 
 Old men and beldams in the streets 
 Do prophesy upon it dangerously : 
 Young Arthur^s death is common in their mouths : 
 And when they talk of him, they shake their heads 
 
 1 Decorate. 
 
King John. 159 
 
 And whisper one another in the ear ; 
 
 And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, 
 
 Whilst he that hears makes fearful action, 
 
 With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes 
 
 I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, 
 
 The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, 
 
 With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ; 
 
 Who, with his shears and measure in his hand. 
 
 Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste 
 
 Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet. 
 
 Told of a many thousand warlike French, 
 
 That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent : 
 
 Another lean unwash'd artificer 
 
 Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur's death. 
 
 THE EVIL PURPOSES OF KINGS TOO SERVILELY 
 EXECUTED. 
 
 It is the curse of kings to be attended 
 
 By slaves that take their humours for a warrant 
 
 To break within the bloody house of life. 
 
 And on the winking of authority 
 
 To understand a law, to know the meaning 
 
 Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns 
 
 More upon humour than advised respect.' 
 
 A villain's LOOK, AND READY ZEAL. 
 
 How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds. 
 Makes ill deeds done ! Hadst not thou been by, 
 
 * Deliberate consideration. 
 
i6o Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd. 
 Quoted ' and sign'd to do a deed of shame, 
 This murder had not come into my mind : 
 
 Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause 
 
 When I spake darkly what I purposed, 
 
 Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face. 
 
 As bid me tell my tale in express words. 
 
 Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break 
 
 off. 
 And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me. 
 
 HYPOCRISY. 
 
 Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, 
 For villany is not without such rheum ; ' 
 And he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
 Like rivers of remorse ' and innocency. 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 If thou didst but consent 
 To this most cruel act, do but despair. 
 And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread 
 That ever spider twisted from her womb 
 Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be 
 A beam to hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown 
 
 thyself. 
 Put but a little water in a spoon. 
 And it shall be as all the ocean, 
 Enough to stifle such a villain up. 
 
 » Observed. * Moisture. ' Pity. 
 
King John. i6i 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 A MAN IN TEARS. 
 
 Let me wipe off this honourable dew, 
 
 That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks : 
 
 My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
 
 Being an ordinary inundation ; 
 
 But this effusion of such manly drops, 
 
 This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul. 
 
 Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amazed 
 
 Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 
 
 Figured quite o'er with burning meteors. 
 
 Lift up thy. brow, renowned Salisbury, 
 
 And with a great heart heave away this storm : 
 
 Commend these waters to those baby eyes 
 
 That never saw the giant world enraged ; 
 
 Nor met with fortune other than at feasts. 
 
 Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping. 
 
 DRUMS. 
 
 Lewis. Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue 
 of war 
 Plead for our interest. 
 
 Bastard. Do but start 
 
 An echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
 And even at hand a drum is ready braced 
 That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ; 
 
1 62 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Sound but another, and another shall 
 As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's * ear 
 And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. 
 
 APPROACH OF DEATH. 
 
 It is too late : the life of all his blood 
 
 Is touch'd corruptibly, and his pure brain. 
 
 Which some suppose the souFs frail dwelling-house, 
 
 Doth, by the idle comments that it makes 
 
 Foretell the ending of mortality. 
 
 MADNESS OCCASIONED BY POISON. 
 
 King John. 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. 
 
 Prince Henry. How fares your majesty? 
 
 Ki7ig John. 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. 
 
 iSky. 
 
King John, 163 
 
 ENGLAND INVINCIBLE IF UNANIMOUS. 
 
 This England never did, nor never shall, 
 Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. 
 But when it first did help to wound itself. 
 Now these her princes are come home again, 
 Come the three corners of the world in arms, 
 And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, 
 If England to itself do rest but true. 
 
KING RICHARD II. 
 ACT I. 
 
 REPUTATION. 
 
 The purest treasure mortal times afford 
 
 Is spotless reputation : that away, 
 
 Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. 
 
 COWARDICE. 
 
 That which in mean men we intitle patience 
 Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 
 
 CONSOLATION UNDER BANISHMENT 
 
 All places that the eye of heaven visits 
 Are to a wise man ports and happy havens 
 Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; 
 There is no virtue like necessity. 
 Think not the king did banish thee, 
 But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit, 
 Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. 
 Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour 
 And not the king exiled thee ; or suppose 
 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air. 
 And thou art flying to a fresher clime : 
 
King Richard II, 165 
 
 Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
 
 To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest : 
 
 Suppose the singing birds musicians, 
 
 The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence > 
 
 strew'd, 
 The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps, no more 
 Than a delightful measure or a dance ; 
 For gnarling ^ sorrow hath less power to bite 
 The man chat mocks at it and sets it light. 
 
 THOUGHTS INEFFECTUAL TO MODERATE AFFLICTION. 
 
 O, who can hold a fire in his hand 
 
 By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 
 
 By bare imagination of a feast? 
 
 Or wallow naked in December snow 
 
 By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? 
 
 O, no ! the apprehension of the good 
 
 Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : 
 
 Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more 
 
 Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 
 
 POPULARITY. 
 
 Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green 
 Observed his courtship to the common people ; 
 How he did seem to dive into their hearts 
 With humble and familiar courtesy. 
 What reverence he did throw away on slaves, 
 
 1 Presence-chamber at Court, 2 Growling. 
 
1 66 Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles 
 
 And patient underbearing of his fortune, 
 
 As 't were, to banish their affects with him. 
 
 Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ; 
 
 A brace of draymen bid God speed him well 
 
 And had the tribute of his supple knee, 
 
 With ' Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends ; 
 
 As were our England in reversion his. 
 
 And he our subjects' next degree in hope. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 A RASH FIERCE BLAZE OF RIOT. 
 
 Violent fires soon burn out themselves ; 
 Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short ; 
 \^ : He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; • ■ • ' 
 With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder : 
 Light vanity, insatiate cormorant 
 Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. 
 
 ENGLAND PATHETICALLY DESCRIBED. 
 
 This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, 
 This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, 
 This other Eden, demi-paradise. 
 This fortress, built by nature for herself 
 Against infection and the hand of war, 
 This happy breed of men, this little world. 
 This precious stone set in the silver sea. 
 Which serves it in the office of a wall 
 
King Richard IL 167 
 
 Or as a moat defensive to a house. 
 Against the envy of less happier lands, 
 
 England, bound in with the triumphant sea, 
 Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
 Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame. 
 With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds : 
 That England, that was wont to conquer others. 
 Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. 
 
 GRIEF. 
 
 Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, 
 Which shows like grief itself, but are not so ; 
 For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, 
 Divides one thing entire to many objects ; 
 Like perspectives,' which rightly gazed upon 
 Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry, 
 Distinguish form. 
 
 HOPE DECEITFUL. 
 
 I will despair, and be at enmity 
 
 With cozening hope : he is a flatterer, 
 
 A parasite, a keeper back of death. 
 
 Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, 
 
 Which false hope lingers in extremity. 
 
 PROGNOSTICS OF CHANGE. 
 
 The bay trees in our country are all wither'd 
 And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ; 
 
 » Pictures. 
 
1 68 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth 
 
 And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change ; 
 
 Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap, 
 
 The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, 
 
 The other to enjoy by rage and war : 
 
 These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO ENGLAND. 
 
 N 
 
 As a long-parted mother with her child 
 
 Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting. 
 
 So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, 
 
 And do thee favours with my royal hands. 
 
 Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth. 
 
 Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sen$le";' ^^ 
 
 But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, 
 
 And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way. 
 
 Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet 
 
 Which with usurping steps do trample thee : 
 
 Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies ; 
 
 And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, 
 
 Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder 
 
 Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch 
 
 Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. 
 
 Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords : 
 
 This earth shall have a feeling and these stones 
 
 Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king 
 
 Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. 
 
King Richard II. 169 
 
 SUN-RISING AFTER A DARK NIGHT. 
 
 Know'st thou not 
 That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
 Behind the globe, that Hghts the lower world, 
 Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen 
 In murders and in outrage, bloody here ; 
 But when from under this terrestrial ball 
 He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines 
 And darts his light through every guilty hole, 
 Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, 
 The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their back^. 
 Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? 
 
 THE DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS. 
 
 So when this thief, this traitor Bolingbroke 
 Who all this while hath revelPd in the night 
 Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes 
 Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, 
 His treasons will sit blushing in his face, 
 Not able to endure the sight of day, 
 But self- affrighted tremble at his sin. 
 Not all the water in the rough rude sea 
 Can wash the balm off from an anointed king r 
 The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
 The deputy elected by the Lord. 
 
 STORY OF A REVOLT. 
 
 Like an unseasonable stormy day, 
 
 Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, 
 
lyo Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 As if the world were all dissolved to tears, 
 
 So high above his limits swells the rage 
 
 Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land 
 
 With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. 
 
 White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless 
 
 scalps 
 Against thy majesty ; boys, with women's voices. 
 Strive to speak big and clap their female joints 
 In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown : 
 Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows 
 Of double-fatal yew against thy state ; 
 Yea, distaif-women manage rusty bills 
 Against thy seat : both young and old rebel. 
 And all goes worse than I have power to tell. 
 
 VANITY OF POWER AND MISERY OF KINGS. 
 
 King Richard. Of comfort no man speak : 
 Let 's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs ; 
 Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes 
 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
 Let 's choose executors and talk of wills : 
 And yet not so, for what can we bequeath 
 Save our deposed bodies to the ground? 
 Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's, 
 And nothing can we call our own but death 
 And that small model of the barren earth 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground 
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings : 
 How some have been deposed ; some slain in war ; 
 
King Richard II. ^Ti 
 
 Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed ; 
 
 Some poisoned by their wives ; some sleeping kill'd ; 
 
 All murdered : for within the hollow crown 
 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
 
 Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, 
 
 Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp. 
 
 Allowing him a breath, a little scene. 
 
 To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks, 
 
 Infusing him with self and vain conceit. 
 
 As if this flesh which walls about our life 
 
 Were brass impregnable, and, humoured thus 
 
 Comes at the last and with a little pin 
 
 Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king ! 
 
 Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood 
 
 With solemn reverence : throw away respect, 
 
 Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, 
 
 For you have but mistook me all this while : 
 
 I live with bread like you, feel want. 
 
 Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, 
 
 How can you say to me, I am a king? 
 
 THE WAY OF FEAR. 
 
 Wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, 
 But presently prevent the ways to wail. 
 To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, 
 Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe, 
 And so your follies fight against yourself. 
 Fear, and be slain ; no worse can come to fight ; 
 And fight and die is death destroying death ; 
 Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. 
 
172 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 A KING'S CURSE. 
 
 Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, 
 Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf 
 Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike 
 Your children yet unborn and unbegot, 
 That lift your vassal hands against my head 
 And threat the glory of my precious crown. 
 Tell Bolingbroke — for yond methinks he stands 
 That every stride he makes upon my land 
 Is dangerous treason : he is come to open 
 The purple testament of bleeding war ; 
 But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, 
 Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons 
 Shall ill become the flower of England's face. 
 Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace 
 To scarlet indignation, and bedew 
 Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood 
 
 A king's renunciation. 
 
 The king shall be contented : must he lose 
 The name of king? o' God's name, let it go : 
 I '11 give my jewels for a set of beads, 
 My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, 
 My gay apparel for an alrftsman's gown, 
 My figured goblets for a dish of wood, 
 My sceptre for a palmer's walking-staff, 
 My subjects for a pair of carved saints. 
 And my large kingdom for a little grave, 
 A little little grave, an obscure grave ; 
 
King Richard h. 173 
 
 Or I '11 be buried in the king's highway, 
 Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet 
 May hourly trample on their sovereign's head ; 
 For on my heart they tread now whilst I live ; 
 And buried once, why not upon my head? 
 
 A KINGDOM COMPARED TO A GARDEN. 
 
 Gardejier. Go, bind thou up yon dangling 
 apricocks 
 Which, like unruly children, make their sire 
 Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight : 
 Give some supportance to the bending twigs. 
 Go thou, and like an executioner. 
 Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, 
 That look too lofty in our commonwealth : 
 All must be even in our government. 
 You thus employ'd, I will go root away 
 The noisome weeds, which without profit suck 
 The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. 
 
 Servant. Why should we in the compass of a 
 pale 
 Keep law and form and due proportion. 
 Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, 
 When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, 
 Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up. 
 Her fruit-trees all unpruned, her hedges ruin'd. 
 Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs 
 Swarming with caterpillars ? 
 
 Gard. Hold thy peace : 
 
 He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring 
 
1 74 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: 
 
 The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did 
 
 shelter, 
 That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, 
 Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke, 
 I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 
 
 Serv. What, are they dead? 
 
 Card. They are ; and Bolingbroke 
 
 Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it 
 That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land 
 As we this garden ! We at time of year 
 Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, 
 Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, 
 With too much riches it confound itself: 
 Had he done so to great and growing men. 
 They might have lived to bear and he to taste 
 Their fruits of duty : superfluous branches 
 We lop away, that bearing boughs may live : 
 Had he done so, himself had borne the crown. 
 Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 A DEPOSED KING. 
 
 You may my glories and my state depose. 
 But not my griefs ; still am I king of those. 
 
 I give this heavy weight from off my head 
 And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, 
 
King Richard IL 175 
 
 The pride of kingly sway from out my heart ; 
 With mine own tears I wash away my balm, 
 With mine own hands I give away my crown, 
 With mine own tongue deny my sacred state. 
 With mine own breath release all duty's rites : 
 All pomp and majesty I do forswear ; 
 My manors, rents, revenues, I forego ; 
 My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny : 
 God pardon all oaths that are broke to me ! 
 God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee ! 
 Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved. 
 And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved ! 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 MELANCHOLY STORIES. 
 
 In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire 
 
 With good old folks and let them tell thee tales 
 
 Of woeful ages long ago betid ; ' 
 
 And ere thou bid good night, to quit 2 their griefs. 
 
 Tell thou the lamentable tale of me 
 
 And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 
 
 A PROPHECY. 
 
 Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal 
 The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, 
 The time shall not be many hours of age 
 More than it is ere foul sin gathering head 
 
 1 Passed. 2 Be even with them. 
 
176 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, 
 
 Though he divide the realm and give thee half, 
 
 It is too little, helping him to all ; 
 
 And he shall think that thou, which knovv^st the way 
 
 To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, 
 
 Being ne'er so little urged, another way 
 
 To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. 
 
 The love of wicked men converts to fear ; 
 
 That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both 
 
 To worthy danger and deserved death. 
 
 PUBLIC ENTRY. 
 
 York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- 
 broke, 
 Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed 
 Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, 
 With slow but stately pace kept on his course, 
 Whilst all tongues cried ' God save thee, Boling- 
 
 broke ! ' 
 You would have thought the very windows spake, 
 So many greedy looks of young and old 
 Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
 Upon his visage, and that all the walls 
 With painted imagery ' had said at once 
 * Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke ! ' 
 Whilst he, from one side to the other turning. 
 Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
 Bespake them thus : ♦ I thank you, countrymen.' 
 And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. 
 
 1 Tapestry hung from the windows. 
 
King Richard IL 177 
 
 Duchess. Alack, poor Richard ! where rode he the 
 whilst? 
 
 Yo?'k. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
 After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, 
 Are idly bent ' on him that enters next. 
 Thinking his prattle to be tedious ; 
 Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
 Did scowl on gentle Richard ; no man cried ' God 
 
 save him ! ' 
 No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : 
 But dust was thrown upon his sacred Head ; 
 Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off. 
 His face still combating with tears and smiles. 
 The badges of his grief and patience. 
 That had not God, for some strong purpose, steePd 
 The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted 
 And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
 
 VIOLETS. 
 
 The Duchess. Who are the violets now 
 That strew the green lap of the new come spring? 
 Aumerle. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly 
 care not : 
 God knows I had as lief be none as one. 
 
 York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of 
 time, 
 Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. 
 
 1 Carelessly turned. 
 
1 78 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A SOLILOQUY IN PRISON. 
 
 I have been studying how I may compare 
 
 This prison where I live unto the world : 
 
 And for because the world is populous 
 
 And here is not a creature but myself, 
 
 I cannot do it ; yet I '11 hammer it out. 
 
 My brain I '11 prove the female to my soul, 
 
 My soul the father ; and these two beget 
 
 A generation of still-breeding thoughts, 
 
 And these same thoughts people this little world,'. 
 
 In humours like the people of this world. 
 
 For no thought is contented. 
 
 Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves 
 That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, 
 Nor shall not be the last ; Uke silly beggars 
 Who, sitting in the stocks refuge their shame. 
 That many have and others must sit there ; 
 And in this thought they find a kind of ease. 
 Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
 Of such as have before endured the like. 
 Thus play I in one person many people, 
 And none contented : sometimes am I king ; 
 Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar. 
 And so I am : then crushing penury 
 Persuades me I was better when a king ; 
 Then am I king'd again : and by and by 
 Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, 
 
 1 His own body. 
 
King Richard II. 179 
 
 And straight am nothing : but whatever I be, 
 Nor I nor any man that but man is 
 With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased 
 With being nothins:. 
 
 MUSIC AND TIME. 
 
 Ha, ha ! keep time ; how sour sweet music is 
 
 When time is broke and no proportion kept ! 
 
 So is it in the music of men's lives. 
 
 And here have I the daintiness of ear 
 
 To check time broke in a disordered string ; 
 
 But for the concord of my state and time 
 
 Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. 
 
 I wasted time, and now doth time waste me ; 
 
 For now hath time made me his numbering clock : 
 
 My thoughts are minutes ; and with sighs they jar 
 
 Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, 
 
 Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, 
 
 Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. 
 
 Now, sir, the sound that tells what hour it is 
 
 Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart, 
 
 Which is the bell : so sighs and tears and groans 
 
 Show minutes, times, and hours : but my time 
 
 Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy. 
 
 While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock, 
 
 This music mads me ; let it sound no more ; 
 
 For though it hath holp madmen to their wits, 
 
 In me it seems it will mpke wise men mad. 
 
i8o Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 THE king's steed. 
 
 King Richard. How comest thou hither 
 Where no man never comes but that sad dog 
 That brings me food to make misfortune live? 
 
 Groo7n. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, 
 When thou wert king ; who, travelling towards York, 
 With much ado at length have gotten leave 
 To look upon my sometimes royal master's face. 
 O, how it yearn''d my heart when I beheld 
 In London streets, that coronation-day, 
 When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary, • 
 That horse that thou so often hast bestrid. 
 That horse that I so carefully have dress'd ! 
 
 K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle 
 friend , 
 How went he under him? 
 
 Groom. So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. 
 
 K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his 
 back ! 
 That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand ; 
 This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. 
 Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, 
 Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck 
 Of that proud man that did usurp his back ? 
 Forgiveness, horse ! why do I rail on thee, 
 Since thou, created to be awed by man, 
 Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; 
 And yet I bear a burthen like an ass, 
 Spurred, gall'd and tired by jauncing Bolingbroke. 
 
KING HENRY IV. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 PEACE AFTER CIVIL WAR. 
 
 So shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
 
 Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, 
 
 And breathe short-winded accents of new broils, 
 
 To be commenced in strands afar remote. 
 
 No more the thirsty entrance of this soil 
 
 Shall daub her Hps with her own children's blood 
 
 No more shall trenching war channel her fields. 
 
 Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs 
 
 Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes. 
 
 Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
 
 All of one nature, of one substance bred. 
 
 Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
 
 And furious close of civil butchery 
 
 Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, 
 
 March all one way and be no more opposed 
 
 Against acquaintance, kindred and allies : 
 
 The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife. 
 
 No more shall cut his master. 
 
1 82 Beauties of Shahspeare, 
 
 A CRUSADE. 
 
 As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, 
 Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross 
 We are impressed and engaged to fight. 
 Forthwith a power of English shall we levy ; 
 Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb 
 To chase these pagans in those holy fields 
 Over whose acres walked those blessed feet 
 Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd 
 For our advantage on the bitter cross. 
 
 KING henry's character OF PERCY, AND OF HIS 
 SON PRINCE HENRY. 
 
 Yea, there thou makest me sad and makest me sin 
 
 In envy that my lord Northumberland 
 
 Should be the father of so blest a son, 
 
 A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue ; 
 
 Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant ; 
 
 Who is sweet fortune's minion ^ and her pride : 
 
 Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him. 
 
 See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
 
 Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved 
 
 That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
 
 In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, 
 
 And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet ! 
 
 Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. 
 
 » Favorite. 
 
King Henry IV. 183 
 
 PRINCE henry's soliloquy. 
 
 I know you all, and will awhile uphold 
 
 The unyoked humour of your idleness : 
 
 Yet herein will I imitate the sun, 
 
 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
 
 To smother up his beauty from the world. 
 
 That, when he please again to be himself. 
 
 Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
 
 By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
 
 Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
 
 If all the year were playing holidays, 
 
 To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 
 
 But when they seldom come, they wishM for come, 
 
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
 
 So, when this loose behaviour I throw oif. 
 
 And pay the debt I never promised, 
 
 By how much better than my word I am, 
 
 By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ;^ 
 
 And like bright metal on a sullen^ ground. 
 
 My reformation, glittering o'er my fault. 
 
 Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes 
 
 Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
 
 I '11 so offend, to make offence a skill ; 
 
 Redeeming time when men think least I will. 
 
 hotspur's description of a finical courtier. 
 
 I remember, when the fight was done, 
 When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, 
 
 1 Expectations. * Dull. 
 
184 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
 
 Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd. 
 
 Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reap'd 
 
 Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; 
 
 He was perfumed like a milliner ; 
 
 And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
 
 A pouncet-box,^ which ever and anon 
 
 He gave his nose and took 't away again ; 
 
 Who therewith angry, when it next came there, 
 
 Took it in snuff; and still he smiled, and talkVd, 
 
 And. as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
 
 He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
 
 To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
 
 Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
 
 With many holiday and lady terms 
 
 He question^ me ; among the rest, demanded 
 
 My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. 
 
 I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, 
 
 To be so pester'd with a popinjay,^ 
 
 Out of my grief ^ and my impatience, 
 
 Answer'd neglectingly I know not what. 
 
 He should, or he should not ; for he made me mad 
 
 To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet 
 
 And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman 
 
 Of guns and drums and wounds, — God save the 
 
 mark ! — 
 And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth 
 Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ; 
 And that it was great pity, so it was, 
 
 1 A small box for musk or other perfumes. 
 3 Parrot. »Pain. 
 
King Henry IV, 185 
 
 That villanous salt-petre should be digged 
 Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
 Which many a good tall ' fellow had destroy'd 
 So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns, 
 He would himself have been a soldier. 
 
 SINGLE COMBAT. 
 
 On the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, 
 In single opposition, hand to hand, 
 He did confound the best part of an hour 
 In changing hardiment with great Glendower : 
 Three times they breathed and three times did they 
 
 drink. 
 Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ; 
 Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, 
 Ran fearfully among the trembUng reeds, 
 And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank 
 Bloodstained with these valiant combatants. 
 Never did base and rotten policy 
 Colour her working with such deadly wounds ; 
 Nor never could the noble Mortimer 
 Receive so many, and all willingly : 
 Then let not him be slandered with revolt. 
 
 DANGER. 
 
 I will unclasp a secret book, 
 And to your quick-conceiving discontents 
 I '11 read you matter deep and dangerous, 
 
 1 Brave. 
 
1 86 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 As full of peril and adventurous spirit 
 As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud 
 On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
 
 HONOUR. 
 
 By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, 
 
 To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, 
 
 Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
 
 Where fathom-line could never touch the ground. 
 
 And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; 
 
 So he, that doth redeem her thence might wear 
 
 Without corrival ^ all her dignities : 
 
 Be out upon this half-faced fellowship ! « 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 LADY PERCY'S PATHETIC SPEECH TO HER HUSBAND. 
 
 O my good lord, why are you thus alone ? 
 
 For what offence have I this fortnight been 
 
 A banished woman from my Harry's bed? 
 
 Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from thee 
 
 Thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? 
 
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth. 
 
 And start so often when thou sit'st alone? 
 
 Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ; 
 
 And given my treasures and my rights of thee 
 
 To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy? 
 
 In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, 
 
 * A rival. * Friendship. 
 
King Henry IV. 187 
 
 And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars ; 
 
 Speak words of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
 
 Cry ' Courage ! to the field ! ' And thou hast talk'd 
 
 Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents. 
 
 Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, 
 
 Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, 
 
 Of prisoners' ransom and of soldiers slain. 
 
 And all the currents * of a heady fight. 
 
 Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war 
 
 And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
 
 That beads '^ of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
 
 Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream ; 
 
 And in thy face strange motions have appeared, 
 
 Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
 
 On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are 
 
 these ? 
 Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
 And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
 
 A husband's confidence. 
 
 Lady Percy. In faith, I '11 break thy little finger, 
 Harry, 
 An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 
 
 Hotspur. Away, 
 Away, you trifler ! - Love ! I love thee not, 
 I care not for thee, Kate : this is no world 
 To play with mammets ^ and to tilt with lips : 
 We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns, 
 
 ^Occurrences. 'Drops. 8 Dolls, toys. 
 
1 88 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And pass them current too. God 's me, my horse! 
 What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have 
 with me? 
 
 Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed? 
 Well, do not then ; for since you love me not, 
 I will not love myself. Do you not love me? 
 Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. 
 
 Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride? 
 And when I am o' horseback, I will swear 
 I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate ; 
 I must not have you henceforth question me 
 Whither I go, nor reason whereabout : 
 Whither I must, I must ; and, to conclude, 
 This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
 I know you wise, but yet no farther wise 
 Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are, 
 But yet a woman : and for secrecy, 
 No lady closer ; for I well believe 
 Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ; 
 And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. 
 
 Lady. How! so far? 
 
 Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate : 
 Whither I go, thither shall you go too ; 
 To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. 
 Will this content you, Kate? 
 
 Lady. It must of force. 
 
 FALSTAFF DESCRIBED BY HIMSELF. 
 
 A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent ; of 
 a cheerful look, a pleasing eye and a most noble car- 
 
King Henry IV. 189 
 
 riage ; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by V 
 lady, inclining to threescore ; and now I remember 
 me, his name is FalstafF: if that man should be 
 lewdly given, he deceiveth me ; for, Harry, I see 
 virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be known 
 by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremp- 
 torily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff : him 
 keep with, the rest banish. 
 
 FALSTAFF DESCRIBED BY PRINCE HAL. 
 
 There is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an 
 old fat man ; a tun of man is thy companion. Why 
 dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that 
 bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of 
 dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed 
 cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with 
 the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that gray 
 iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? 
 Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? 
 wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and 
 eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, 
 but in villany? wherein villanous, but in all things? 
 wherein worthy, but in nothing? 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 PRODIGIES RIDICULED. 
 
 Glendower . I cannot blame him : at my nativity 
 The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes. 
 
190 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Of burning cressets ; * and at my birth 
 The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
 Shaked like a coward. 
 
 Hotspur. Why, so it would have done at the same 
 season, if your mother's cat had but kitten'd, though 
 yourself had ne'er been born. 
 
 Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
 
 In strange eruptions ; oft the teeming earth 
 
 Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd 
 
 By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
 
 Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving. 
 
 Shakes the old beldam earth and topples ^ down 
 
 Steeples and moss-grown towers. 
 
 ON MISERABLE RHYMERS. 
 
 Glendower. Being but young, I framed to the 
 harp 
 Many an English ditty lovely well, 
 And gave the tongue a helpful ornament, 
 A virtue that was never seen in you. 
 
 Hotspur. Marry ! 
 And I am glad of it with all my heart : 
 I had rather be a kitten and cry mew 
 Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ; 
 I had rather hear a brazen canstick 3 turn'd. 
 Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree ; 
 
 1 I>ig^hts set crossways upon beacons, and also upon poles, 
 which were used in processions, etc. 
 
 2 Tumbles. » Candlestick. 
 
King Henry IV, 191 
 
 And that would set my teeth nothing on edge 
 
 Nothing so much as mincing poetry : 
 
 'T is like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. 
 
 PUNCTUALITY IN BARGAINS. 
 
 I '11 give thrice so much land 
 To any well-deserving friend ; 
 But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 
 I '11 cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 
 
 A BORE. 
 
 He angers me 
 With telling me of the moldwarp 1 and the ant, 
 Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, 
 And of a dragon and a finless fish, 
 A clip-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven, 
 A couching lion and a ramping cat. 
 And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
 As puts me from my faith. I tell you what ; 
 He held me last night at least nine hours 
 In reckoning up the several devils' names 
 That were his lackeys : I cried ' hum,' and ' well, go 
 
 to,' 
 But mark'd him not a word, O, he is as tedious 
 As a tired horse, a railing wife ; 
 Worse than a smoky house : I had rather live 
 With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far. 
 Than feed on cates and have him talk to me 
 In any summer-house in Christendom. 
 
 1 Mole. 
 
192 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A HUSBAND SUNG TO SLEEP BY HIS WIFE. 
 
 She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down 
 And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
 And she will sing the song that pleaseth you 
 And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, 
 Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, 
 Making such diflference 'twixt wake and sleep 
 As is the difference 'twixt day and night 
 The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
 Begins his golden progress in the east. 
 
 KING henry's address TO HIS SON. - 
 
 Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
 
 So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, 
 
 So stale and cheap to vulgar company, 
 
 Opinion, that did help me to the crown, 
 
 Had still kept loyal to possession ' 
 
 And left me in reputeless banishment, 
 
 A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. 
 
 By being seldom seen, I could not stir 
 
 But like a comet I was wonder'd at ; 
 
 That men would tell their children ' This is he ; ' 
 
 Others would say * Where ? which is Bolingbroke ? 
 
 And then I stole all courtesy from heaven. 
 
 And dress'd myself in such humility 
 
 That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 
 
 Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
 
 *True to him that had then possession of the crown. 
 
King Henry IV. 193 
 
 Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
 
 Thus did I keep my person fresh and new ; 
 
 My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
 
 Ne'er seen but wonder'd at : and so my state. 
 
 Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast 
 
 And won by rareness such solemnity. 
 
 The skipping king, he ambled up and down 
 
 With shallow jesters and rash bavin ^ wits. 
 
 Soon kindled and soon burnt ; carded his state, 
 
 Mingled his royalty with capering fools, 
 
 Had his great name profaned with their scorns 
 
 And gave his countenance, against his name, 
 
 To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push 
 
 Of every beardless vain comparative,^ 
 
 Grew a companion to the common streets, 
 
 Enfeoft'd ^ himself to popularity ; 
 
 That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes. 
 
 They surfeited with honey and began 
 
 To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 
 
 More than a little is by much too much. 
 
 So when he had occasion to be seen, 
 
 He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
 
 Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes 
 
 As, sick and blunted with community. 
 
 Afford no extraordinary gaze. 
 
 Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
 
 When it shines seldom in admiring eyes ; 
 
 But rather drowsed and hung their eyelids down, 
 
 Slept in his face and rendered such aspect 
 
 1 Flashy. * Rival. » Possessed. 
 
194 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 As cloudy men use to their adversaries, 
 
 Being with his presence glutted, gorged and full. 
 
 A SCATHING COMPARISON. 
 
 King. For all the world 
 As thou art to this hour was Richard then 
 When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, 
 And even as I was then is Percy now. 
 Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot, 
 He hath more worthy interest to the state 
 Than thou the shadow of succession ; 
 For of no right, nor color like to right. 
 He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, 
 Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, 
 And, being no more in debt to years than thou, 
 Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on 
 To bloody battles and to bruising arms. 
 What never-dying honour hath he got 
 Against renowned Douglas ! whose high deeds, 
 Wfiose hot incursions and great name in arms 
 Holds from all soldiers chief majority 
 And military title capital 
 
 Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ: 
 Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes. 
 This infant warrior, in his enterprizes 
 Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once. 
 Enlarged him and made a friend of him, 
 To fill the mouth of deep defiance up 
 And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
 And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, 
 
King Henry IV. 195 
 
 The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, 
 
 Capitulate against us and are up. 
 
 But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? 
 
 Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 
 
 Which art my nearest and dearest enemy? 
 
 Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, 
 
 Base inclination and the start of spleen, 
 
 To fight against me under Percy's pay, 
 
 To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, 
 
 To show how much thou art degenerate. 
 
 PRINCE henry's modest DEFENCE OF HIMSELF. 
 
 Do not think so : you shall not find it so : 
 
 And God forgive them, that have so much sway'd 
 
 Your majesty's good thoughts away from me ! 
 
 I will redeem all this on Percy's head 
 
 And in the closing of some glorious day 
 
 Be bold to tell you that I am your son ; 
 
 When I will wear a garment all of blood 
 
 And stain my favours in a bloody mask. 
 
 Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it : 
 
 And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights. 
 
 That this same child of honour and renown. 
 
 This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
 
 And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. 
 
 For every honour sitting on his helm, 
 
 Would they were multitudes, and on my head 
 
 My shames redoubled ! for the time will come. 
 
 That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
 
 His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
 
196 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
 
 To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
 
 And I will call him to so strict account, 
 
 That he shall render every glory up. 
 
 Yea, even the slightest worship of his time. 
 
 Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
 
 This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
 
 The which if He be pleased I shall perform, 
 
 I do beseech your majesty may salve 
 
 The long-grown wounds of my intemperance : 
 
 If not, the end of life cancels all bands ; * 
 
 And I will die a hundred thousand deaths 
 
 Ere break the smallest parcel ^ of this vow. 
 
 A RED FACE. 
 
 I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire and 
 Dives that lived in purple ; for there he is in his robes, 
 burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to 
 virtue, I would swear by thy face ; my oath should 
 be ' By this fire, that 's God's angel : ' but thou art 
 altogether given over ; and wert indeed, but for the 
 light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When 
 thou rannest up Gadshill in the night to catch my 
 horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis 
 fatuus or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in 
 money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an ever- 
 lasting bonfire-light ! Thou hast saved me a thou- 
 sand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in 
 the night betwixt tavern and tavern : but the sack 
 
 1 Bonds. * Part. 
 
King Henry IK 197 
 
 that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights 
 as good cheap at the dearest chandler's in Europe. 
 I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire 
 any time this two and thirty years ; God reward me 
 for it ! 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 A GALLANT WARRIOR. 
 
 I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, 
 
 His cuisses ' on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, 
 
 Rise from the ground like featherM Mercury, 
 
 And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
 
 As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 
 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
 
 And witch ^ the world with noble horsemanship. 
 
 hotspur's impatience for the battle. 
 
 Let them come ; 
 They come like sacrifices in their trim. 
 And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war 
 All hot and bleeding will we offer them : 
 The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit 
 Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire 
 To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh 
 And yet not ours. Come, let me take my horse. 
 Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt 
 Against the bosom of the Prince of Wa^es : 
 
 1 Armour. 2 Bewitch, charm. 
 
198 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
 Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. 
 O, that Glendower were come ! 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 THE TRUMPETS OF THE SKIES. 
 
 The southern wind 
 Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, " 
 And by his hollow whistling in the leaves 
 Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. 
 
 PRINCE henry's gallant CHALLENGE. 
 
 Tell your nephew, 
 The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
 In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes, 
 This present enterprise set off his head, 
 I do not think a braver gentleman, 
 More active-valiant or more valiant-young, 
 More daring or more bold, is now alive, 
 To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
 For my part, I may speak it to my shame, 
 I have a truant been to chivalry ; 
 And so I hear he doth account me too : 
 Yet this before my father's majesty — 
 I am content that he shall take the odds 
 Of his great name and estimation ; 
 And will, to save the blood on either side, 
 Try fortune with him in a single fight. 
 
King Henry /K 199 
 
 FALSTAFF'S CATECHISM. 
 
 Well, H is no matter: honour pricks me on. Yea, 
 but how if honour prick me off when I come on? 
 how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? No : or an 
 arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. 
 Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is 
 honour? a word. What is in that word honour? 
 what is that honour ? air. A trim reckoning ! Who 
 hath it ? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel 
 it? no. Doth he hear it ? no. 'T is insensible, then? 
 Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? 
 no. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore 
 I '11 none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon : ' and 
 so ends my catechism. 
 
 LIFE DEMANDS ACTION. 
 
 gentlemen, the time of life is short ! 
 
 To spend that shortness basely were too long. 
 If life did ride upon a dial's point, 
 Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
 
 THE DEATH OF HOTSPUR. 
 
 Hotspur. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my 
 youth ! 
 
 1 better brook the loss of brittle life 
 
 Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ; 
 They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my 
 flesh: 
 
 * Painted heraldry in funerals. 
 
200 Beauties of Shakspearc. 
 
 But thought 's the slave of life, and life time's fool ; 
 And time, that takes survey of all the world, 
 Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, 
 But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
 Lies on my tongue : no, Percy, thou art dust 
 And food for — \_Dies. 
 
 Prince Henry. For worms, brave Percy : fare thee 
 well, great heart ! 
 lU-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk ! 
 When that this body did contain a spirit, 
 A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; 
 But now two paces of the vilest earth 
 Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead 
 Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
 If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
 I should not make so dear a show of zeal : 
 But let my favours ' hide thy mangled face ; 
 And, even in thy behalf, I '11 thank myself 
 For doing these fair rites of tenderness. 
 Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven ! 
 Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave. 
 But not remember'd in thy epitaph ! 
 
 1 Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face. 
 
■ KING HENRY IV» 
 
 PART II. 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 RUMOUR. 
 
 I, from the orient to the drooping west, 
 Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
 The acts commenced on this ball of earth : 
 Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, 
 The which in every language I pronounce, 
 Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. 
 I speak of peace, while covert enmity 
 Under the smile of safety wounds the world : 
 And who but Rumour, who but only I, 
 Make fearful musters and prepared defence, 
 Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief, 
 Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 
 And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe 
 Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures, 
 And of so easy and so plain a stop 
 That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
 The still-discordant wavering multitude. 
 Can play upon it. 
 
202 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 CONTENTION. 
 
 Every minute now 
 Should be the father of some stratagem : 
 The times are wild : contention, like a horse 
 Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose. 
 And bears down all before him, 
 
 A POST MESSENGER. 
 
 My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back 
 With joyful tidings ; and, being better horsed, 
 Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard 
 A gentleman almost forspent * with speed. 
 That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse. 
 He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him 
 I did demand what news from Shrewsbury : 
 He told me that rebellion had bad luck. 
 And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. 
 With that, he gave his able horse the head, 
 And bending forward struck his armed heels 
 Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
 Up to the rowel-head, and starting so 
 He seem'd in running to devour the way, 
 Staying no longer question. 
 
 1 Exhausted. 
 
King Henry IV, 203 
 
 A MESSENGER WITH ILL NEWS. 
 
 This man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 
 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume : 
 So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood 
 Hath left a witnessed usurpation.' 
 
 Thou tremblest ; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
 
 Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
 
 Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
 
 So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone. 
 
 Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 
 
 And would have told him, half his Troy was burnt \^ 
 
 Yet for all this, say not that Percy 's dead. 
 I see a strange confession in thine eye : 
 Thou shakest thy head and hold'st it fear or sin 
 To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so ; 
 The tongue offends not that reports his death : 
 And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, 
 Not he which says the dead is not alive. 
 Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
 Hath but a losing office, and his tongue 
 Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
 Remember'd knoUing a departing friend. 
 
 THE LOSS OF A LEADER. 
 
 In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire 
 Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, 
 
 1 An attestation of its ravage. 
 
204 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Being bruited once, took fire and heat away 
 From the best-temper'd courage in his troops ; 
 For from his metal was his party steeFd ; 
 Which once in him abated, all the rest 
 Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead : 
 And as the thing that 's heavy in itself, 
 Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, 
 So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, 
 Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear 
 That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim 
 Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, 
 Fly from the field. 
 
 GREATER GRIEFS DESTROY THE LESS. 
 
 In poison there is physic ; and these news, 
 Having been well, that would have made me sick, 
 Being sick, have in some measure made me well : 
 And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints. 
 Like strengthless hinges buckle under life, 
 Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
 Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs, 
 Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief, 
 Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice ' 
 
 crutch ! 
 A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel 
 Must glove this hand : and hence thou sickly quoif ! '^ 
 Thou art a guard too wanton for the head 
 Which princes, flashed with conquest, aim to hit. 
 Now bind my brows with iron ; and approach 
 
 » Trifling. « Cap. 
 
King Henry IV, 205 
 
 The ragged\st hour that time and spite dare bring 
 To frown upon the enraged Northumberland ! 
 Let heaven kiss earth ! now let not nature's hand 
 Keep the wild flood confined ! let order die ! 
 And let this world no longer be a stage 
 To feed contention in a lingering act ; 
 But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
 Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
 On bloody courses, the rude scene rnay end, 
 And darkness be the burier of the dead ! 
 
 THE FICKLENESS OF THE VULGAR. 
 
 An habitation giddy and unsure 
 Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
 O thou fond many,' with what loud applause 
 Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, 
 Before he was what thou wouldst have him be ! 
 And being now trimm'd ^ in thine own desires. 
 Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, 
 That thou provokest thyself to cast him up. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 A MIRROR OF FASHION. 
 
 To do brave acts : he was indeed the glass 
 Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves : 
 He had no legs that practised not his gait ; 
 And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, 
 
 1 Multitude. 2 Dressed. 
 
2o6 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Became the accents of the valiant ; 
 
 For those that could speak low and tardily 
 
 Would turn their own perfection to abuse, 
 
 To seem like him : so that in speech, in gait, 
 
 In diet, in affections of delight, 
 
 In military rules, humours of blood. 
 
 He was the mark and glass, copy and book, 
 
 That fashion'd others. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO SLEEP. 
 
 O sleep, O 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 luird with sounds of sweetest melody ? 
 O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile 
 In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch 
 A watch-case or a common Uarum-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, 
 
King Henry IV. 207 
 
 Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
 CurHng their monstrous heads and hanging them 
 With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, 
 That, with the hurly,' death itself awakes ? 
 Canst 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 ? Then happy low, lie down ! 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. 
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE A MAN. 
 
 Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose 
 a man ? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stat- 
 ure, bulk, and big assemblance of a man ! Give me 
 the spirit. Master Shallow. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 CONTRASTS. 
 
 Against ill chances men are ever merry ; 
 But heaviness foreruns the good event. 
 
 THE CHARACTER OF KING HENRY V. BY HIS FATHEIl 
 
 He is gracious, if he be observed : ^ 
 He hath a tear for pity and a hand 
 Open as day for melting charity : 
 
 1 Noise. ' Has an attention shown him. 
 
2o8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he 's flint, 
 As humorous as winter and as sudden 
 As flaws congealed in the spring of day. 
 His temper, therefore, must be well observed : 
 Chide him for faults, and do it reverently. 
 When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth ; 
 But, being moody, give him Hne and scope, 
 Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
 Confound themselves with working. 
 
 ON FORTUNE. 
 
 Will Fortune never come with both hands full, 
 But write her fair words still in foulest letters? 
 She either gives a stomach and no food ; 
 Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast 
 And takes away the stomach ; such are the rich. 
 That have abundance and enjoy it not. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON A CROWN. 
 
 O polish'd perturbation ! golden care ! 
 That keep'st the ports ^ of slumber open wide 
 To many a watchful night ! sleep with it now ! 
 Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet 
 As he whose brow, with homely biggen ^ bound. 
 Snores out the watch of night. O majesty ! 
 When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
 Like a rich armour worn in heat of day. 
 That scalds with safety. 
 
 1 Gates. • Nightcap. 
 
King Henry IV, 209 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON GOLD. 
 
 How quickly nature falls into revolt 
 
 When gold becomes her object ! 
 
 For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
 
 Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains 
 
 with care, 
 Their bones with industry ; 
 For this they have engross'd and piled up 
 The cankerM heaps of strange-achieved gold ; 
 For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
 Their sons with arts and martial exercises : 
 When, like the bee, tolling ' from every flower 
 The virtuous sweets. 
 
 Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, 
 We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees, 
 Are murder'd for our pains. 
 
 SCENE BETWEEN PRINCE HENRY AND HIS FATHER. 
 
 King. Come hither to me, Harry. 
 Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 
 
 [Exeunt Warwick and the rest. 
 Prince. I never thought to hear you speak again. 
 King. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that 
 thought : 
 I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
 Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair 
 That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours 
 
 » Taking tolL 
 
2IO Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Before thy hour be ripe ? O fooHsh youth ! 
 
 Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. 
 
 Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity 
 
 Is held from falling with so weak a wind 
 
 That it will quickly drop : my day is dim. 
 
 Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours 
 
 Were thine without offence ; and, at my death 
 
 Thou hast seaPd up my expectation : ' 
 
 Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not, 
 
 And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
 
 Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, 
 
 Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, 
 
 To stab at half an hour of my life. 
 
 What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? 
 
 Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself. 
 
 And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear 
 
 That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
 
 Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse 
 
 Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head : 
 
 Only compound me with forgotten dust ; 
 
 Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. 
 
 Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ; 
 
 For now a time is come to mock at form : 
 
 Harry the Fifth is crownM : up, vanity ! 
 
 Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence ! 
 
 And to the English court assemble now, 
 
 From every region, apes of idleness ! 
 
 Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum : 
 
 Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance, 
 
 Revel the night ; rob, murder, and commit 
 
 1 Confirmed my opinion. 
 
King Henry IV, 211 
 
 The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? 
 Be happy, he will trouble you no more ; 
 England shall double gild his treble guilt, 
 England shall give him office, honour, might ; 
 For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks 
 The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
 Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. 
 
 my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows ! 
 When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
 What wilt thou do when riot is thy care ? 
 
 O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, 
 Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants ! 
 
 Prince. O, pardon me, my liege ! but for vcv^ 
 tears, [Kneeling. 
 
 The moist impediments unto my speech, 
 
 1 had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke 
 Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard 
 The course of it so far. There is your crown ; 
 And He that wears the crown immortally 
 Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more 
 Than as your honour and as your renown, 
 Let me no more from this obedience rise, 
 Which my most iitward true and duteous spirit 
 Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending. 
 God witness with me, when I here came in, 
 
 And found no course of breath within your majesty, 
 
 How cold it struck my heart ! If I do feign, 
 
 O, let me in my present wildness die 
 
 And never live to show the incredulous world 
 
 The noble change that I have purposed ! 
 
 Coming to look on you, thinking you dead. 
 
2 1 2 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, 
 
 I spake unto this crown as having sense. 
 
 And thus upbraided it : ' The care on thee depending 
 
 Hath fed upon the body of my father ; 
 
 Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold : 
 
 Other, less fine in carat, is more precious. 
 
 Preserving life in medicine potable : 
 
 But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd, 
 
 Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege, 
 
 Accusing it, I put it on my head. 
 
 To try with it, as with an enemy 
 
 That had before my face murder'd my father, 
 
 The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
 
 But if it did infect my blood with joy. 
 
 Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ; 
 
 If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 
 
 Did with the least affection of a welcome 
 
 Give entertainment to the might of it, 
 
 Let God for ever keep it from my head ! 
 
 And make me as the poorest vassal is 
 
 That doth with awe and terror kneel to it ! 
 
 King. O my son ! 
 God put it in thy mind to take it hence. 
 That thou mightst win the more thy father's love, 
 Pleading so wisely in excuse of it ! 
 Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ; 
 And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
 That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son, 
 By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways 
 I met this crown ; and I myself know well 
 How troublesome it sat upon my head. 
 
King Henry /K 213 
 
 To thee it shall descend with better quiet, 
 
 Better opinion, better confirmation ; 
 
 For all the soiP of the achievement goes 
 
 With me into the earth. It seem'd in me 
 
 But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand. 
 
 And I had many living to upbraid 
 
 My gain of it by their assistances ; 
 
 Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed. 
 
 Wounding supposed peace : all these bold fears ^ 
 
 Thou see'st, with peril I have answered ; 
 
 For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
 
 Acting that argument : and now my death 
 
 Changes the mode ; ^ for what in me was purchased, ^ 
 
 Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort ; 
 
 So thou the garland wear'st successively. 
 
 Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do. 
 
 Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green ; 
 
 And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends. 
 
 Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out ; 
 
 By whose fell working I was first advanced 
 
 And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
 
 To be again displaced ; which to avoid, 
 
 I cut them off; and had a purpose now 
 
 To lead out many to the Holy Land, 
 
 Lest rest and lying still might make them look 
 
 Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
 
 Be it thy course to busy giddy minds 
 
 With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out, 
 
 May waste the memory of the former days. 
 
 1 Spot, dirt. 2 Fris^hts. 3 State of things. 
 
 * Purchase, in Shakspearc, frequently means stolen goods. 
 
214 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 More would I, but my lungs are wasted so 
 That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
 How I came by the crown, O God forgive 
 And grant it may with thee in true peace live ! 
 
 Prince. My gracious 2ge, 
 You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me ; 
 Then plain and right must my possession be : 
 Which I with more than with a common pain 
 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 ADDRESS OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE TO KING HENRY V. 
 WHOM HE HAD IMPRISONED. 
 
 Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, 
 Your highness pleased to forget my place. 
 The majesty and power of law and justice. 
 The image of the king whom I presented, 
 And struck me in my very seat of judgement ; 
 Whereon, as an offender to your father, 
 I gave bold way to my authority 
 And did commit you. If the deed were ill, 
 Be you contented, wearing now the garland, » 
 To have a son set your decrees at nought. 
 To pluck down justice from your awful bench, 
 To trip the course of law and blunt the sword 
 That guards the peace and safety of your person ; 
 Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image 
 
 1 Crown. 
 
King Henry IV. 215 
 
 And mock your workings in a second body. ' 
 
 Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours ; 
 
 Be now the father and propose a son, 
 
 Hear your own dignity so much profaned, 
 
 See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
 
 Behold yourself so by a son disdained ; 
 
 And then imagine me taking your part 
 
 And in your power soft silencing your son. 
 
 THE king's reply. 
 
 You are right, justice, and you weigh this well ; 
 
 Therefore still bear the balance and the sword : 
 
 And I do wish your honours may increase, 
 
 Till you do live to see a son of mine 
 
 Offend you and obey you, as I did. 
 
 So shall I live to speak my father's words : 
 
 ' Happy am I, that have a man so bold. 
 
 That dares do justice on my proper son ; 
 
 And not less happy, having such a son, 
 
 That would deliver up his greatness so 
 
 Into the hands of justice.' You did commit me : 
 
 For which, I do commit into your hand 
 
 The unstained sword that you have used to bear ; 
 
 With this remembrance, that you use the same 
 
 With the like bold, just and impartial spirit 
 
 As you have done 'gainst me. 
 
 1 Treat with contempt your acts executed by a representative. 
 
KING HENRY V. 
 
 Chorus, 
 invocation to the muse. 
 
 O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend 
 The brightest heaven of invention, 
 A kingdom for a stage, princes to act 
 And monarchs to behold the swelling scene ! 
 Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, 
 Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels, 
 Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, an^j* fire 
 Crouch for employment. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 CONSIDERATION. 
 
 Consideration, like an angel, came 
 
 And whipped the offending Adam out of him, 
 
 Leaving his body as a paradise, 
 
 To envelope and contain celestial spirits. 
 
 PERFECTIONS OF KING HENRY V. 
 
 Hear him but reason in divinity. 
 And, all-admiring with an inward wish 
 
King Henry V. 217 
 
 You would desire the king were made a prelate : 
 
 Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 
 
 You would say it hath been all in all his study : 
 
 List ' his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
 
 A fearful battle rendered you in music : 
 
 Turn him to any cause of policy, 
 
 The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, 
 
 Familiar as his garter : that, when he speaks, 
 
 The air, a charter'd libertine, is still. 
 
 And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
 
 To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences. 
 
 THE COMMONWEALTH OF BEES. 
 
 So work the honey bees. 
 Creatures that by a rule in nature teach 
 The act of order to a peopled kingdom 
 They have a king, and officers of sorts ; ^ 
 Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, 
 Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad. 
 Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings. 
 Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds. 
 Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
 To the tent-royal of their emperor ; 
 Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
 The singing masons building roofs of gold, 
 The civil ^ citizens kneading up the honey, 
 The poor mechanic porters crowding in, 
 Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, 
 
 1 Listen to. * Different degrees. 3 Sober, grave. 
 
2 1 8 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, 
 DeHvering o'er to executors * pale 
 The lazy yawning drone. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Chorus, 
 warlike spirit. 
 
 Now all the youth of England are on fire, 
 And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies : 
 Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought 
 Reigns solely in the breast of every man : 
 They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, 
 Followins: the mirror of all Christian kings. 
 With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
 For now sits Expectation in the air, 
 And hides a sword from hilts unto the point 
 With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets, 
 Promised to Harry and his followers. 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO ENGLAND. 
 
 O England ! model to thy inward greatness. 
 
 Like little body with a mighty heart. 
 
 What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do, 
 
 Were all thy children kind and natural ! 
 
 But see thy fault ! France hath in thee found out 
 
 1 Executioners, 
 
King Henry V. 219 
 
 A nest of hollow bosoms, which he ' fills 
 With treacherous crowns. 
 
 TREASON AND MURDER. 
 
 Treason and murder ever kept together, 
 
 As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, 
 
 Working so grossly in a natural cause. 
 
 That admiration did not hoop at them : 
 
 But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in 
 
 Wonder to wait on treason and on murder : 
 
 And whatsoever cunning fiend it was 
 
 That wrought upon thee so preposterously 
 
 Hath got the voice in hell for excellence : 
 
 All other devils that suggest by treasons 
 
 Do botch and bungle up damnation 
 
 With patches, colours, and with forms being fetched 
 
 From glistering semblances of piety ; 
 
 But he that tempered thee bade thee stand up, 
 
 Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, 
 
 Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. 
 
 If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus 
 
 Should with his lion gait walk the whole world. 
 
 He might return to vasty Tartar back, 
 
 And tell the legions ♦ I can never win 
 
 A soul so easy as that Englishman's.' 
 
 FALSE APPEARANCES. 
 
 O, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
 
 The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful ? 
 
 1 i.e. The Kin^ of France. 
 
2 20 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Why, so didst thou : seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why, so didst thou: come they of noble family? 
 Why, so didst thou : seem they religious ? 
 Why, so didst thou : or are they spare in diet, 
 Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger. 
 Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, 
 Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement,' 
 Not working with the eye without the ear. 
 And, but in purged judgement, trusting neither? 
 Such and so finely bolted ^ didst thou seem : 
 And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot. 
 To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued ^ 
 With some suspicion. 
 
 DAME QUICKLY'S ACCOUNT OF FALSTAFF's DEATH. 
 
 Nay, sure, he 's not in hell : he 's in Arthur's bosom, 
 if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. A' made a 
 finer end and went away an it had been any christom * 
 child ; a' parted even just between twelve and one, 
 even at the turning o' the tide ; for after I saw him 
 fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and 
 smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but 
 one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' 
 babbled of green fields. 'How now, Sir John?' 
 quoth I : ' what, man ! be o' good cheer.' So a' 
 cried out, * God, God, God ! ' three or four times : 
 now I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think 
 of God ; I hoped there was no need to trouble him- 
 
 1 Accomplishment. 2 Sifted. 3 Endowed. 
 
 * Chrisom : a cliild not more tlian a month old. 
 
King Henry V, 221 
 
 self with any such thoughts yet. So a' bade me lay 
 more clothes on his feet : I put my hand into the bed 
 and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone. 
 
 AN innkeeper's CREED. 
 
 Let senses rule ; the word is ' Pitch and Pay : ' 
 Trust none ; 
 
 For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes. 
 And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck. 
 
 KING henry's CHARACTER BY THE CONSTABLE OF 
 FRANCE. 
 
 You are too much mistaken in this king : 
 Question your grace the late ambassadors, 
 With what great state he heard their embassy. 
 How well supplied with noble counsellors. 
 How modest in exception,' and withal 
 How terrible in constant resolution. 
 And you shall find his vanities forespent ^ 
 Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
 Covering discretion with a coat of folly ; 
 As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
 That shall first spring, and be most delicate. 
 
 ENGLISH SUPERIORITY OVER THE FRENCH. 
 
 He is bred out of that bloody strain 
 That haunted us in our familiar paths : 
 
 1 In making objections. 2 Wasted, exhausted. 
 
22 2 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Witness our too much memorable shame 
 
 When Cressy battle fatally was struck, 
 
 And all our princes captived by the hand 
 
 Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales ; 
 
 Whiles that his mountain sire, on mountain standing. 
 
 Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun. 
 
 Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to see him, 
 
 Mangle the work of nature, and deface 
 
 The patterns that by God and by French fathers 
 
 Had twenty years been made. This is a stem 
 
 Of that victorious stock. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A FLEET SETTING SAIL. 
 
 Suppose that you have seen 
 The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
 Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet 
 With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning : 
 Play with your fancies, and in them behold. 
 Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing ; 
 Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give 
 To sounds confused ; behold the threaden sails, 
 Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, 
 Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, 
 Breasting the lofty surge. 
 
King Henry V. 223 
 
 THE dauphin's HORSE. 
 
 Dauphin. What a long night is this ! I will not 
 change my horse with any that treads but on four 
 pasterns. 9^» ^"^^ • ^^ bounds from the earth, as if 
 his entrails were hairs ; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, 
 chez les narines de feu ! When I bestride him, I 
 soar, I am a hawk : he trots the air ; the earth sings 
 when he touches it ; the basest horn of his hoof is 
 more musical than the pipe of Hermes. 
 
 Orleans. He 's of the colour of the nutmeg. 
 
 Dauphin. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a 
 beast for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; and the 
 dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, 
 but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts 
 him : he is indeed a horse ; and all other jades you 
 may call beasts. 
 
 Co7istable. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute 
 and excellent horse. 
 
 Dauphi?t. It is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh is 
 like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance 
 enforces homage. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF NIGHT IN A CAMP. 
 
 From camp to camp through the foul womb of night 
 The hum of either army stilly ' sounds, 
 That the fixM sentinels almost receive 
 
 1 Gently, lowly. 
 
224 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 The secret whispers of each other's watch : 
 
 Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames 
 
 Each battle sees the other's umber'd * face : 
 
 Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs 
 
 Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tents 
 
 The armourers, accomplishing the knights, 
 
 With busy hammers closing rivets up, 
 
 Give dreadful note of preparation : 
 
 The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, 
 
 And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
 
 Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, 
 
 The confident and over-lusty 2' French 
 
 Do the low-rated English play at dice ; 
 
 And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night. 
 
 Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp 
 
 So tediously away. The poor condemned English, 
 
 Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
 
 Sit patiently and inly ruminate 
 
 The morning's danger, and their gesture sad, 
 
 Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats, 
 
 Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
 
 So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold 
 
 The royal captain of this ruin'd band. 
 
 Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, 
 
 Let him cry, ' Praise and glory on his head ! ' 
 
 For forth he goes and visits all his host. 
 
 Bids them good-morrow with a modest smile 
 
 And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. 
 
 Upon his royal face there is no note 
 
 How dread an army hath enrounded him ; 
 
 * Discoloured by the gleam of the fires. * Over-saucy. 
 
King Henry V, 225 
 
 Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
 Unto the weary and all-watched night, 
 But freshly looks and overbears attaint 
 With cheerful semblance arid sweet majesty ; 
 That every wretch, pining and pale before. 
 Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks : 
 A largess universal like the sun 
 His liberal eye doth give to every one, 
 Thawing cold fear. 
 
 NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE. 
 
 Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morn- 
 ing which breaks yonder? 
 
 Bates. I think it be : but we have no great cause 
 to desire the approach of day. 
 
 Williams. We see yonder the beginning of the 
 day, but, I think, we shall never see the end of it. 
 Who goes there? 
 
 Kijtg Henry. A friend. 
 
 Will. Under what captain serve you? 
 
 K. He?i. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. 
 
 Will. A good old commander, and a most kind 
 gentleman : I pray you, what thinks he of our estate? 
 
 K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, 
 that look to be washed off the next tide. 
 
 Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king? 
 
 K. Hen. No ; nor it is not meet he should. For, 
 though I speak it to you, I think the king is but a 
 man, as I am : the violet smells to him as it doth to 
 me ; the element shows to him as it doth to me ; all 
 
2 26 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 his senses have but human conditions : * his cere- 
 monies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a 
 man ; and though his affections are higher mounted 
 than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the 
 like wing. Therefore when he sees reason of fears, 
 as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same 
 relish as ours are : yet, in reason, no man should 
 possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by 
 showing it, should dishearten his army. 
 
 Bates. He may show what outward courage he 
 will : but I believe, as cold a night as 't is, he could 
 wish himself in the Thames up to the neck ; and 
 so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, 
 so we were quit here. 
 
 K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience 
 of the king ; I think, he would not wish himself any 
 where but where he is. 
 
 Bates. Then I would he were here alone ; so 
 should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor 
 men's lives saved. 
 
 K. Hen. I dare say you love him not so ill, to 
 wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel 
 other men's minds : methinks I could not die any 
 where so contented as in the king's company ; his 
 cause being just and his quarrel honourable. 
 
 Will. That 's more than we know. 
 
 Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; 
 for we know enough, if we know we are the king's 
 subjects ; if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the 
 king wipes the crime of it out of us. 
 
 1 Qjialities. 
 
King Henry V, 227 
 
 Will. But if the cause be not good, the king 
 himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all 
 those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a 
 battle, shall join together at the latter day ^ and cry 
 all ' We died at such a place ; ' some swearing, 
 some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives 
 left poor behind them, some upon the debts they 
 owe, some upon their children rawly ^ left, I am 
 afeard there are few die well that die in a battle ; for 
 how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when 
 blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not 
 die well, it will be a black matter for the king that 
 led them to it ; whom to disobey were against all 
 proportion of subjection, 
 
 K. Hen. So, if a son that is by his father sent 
 about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the 
 sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, 
 should be imposed upon his father that sent him : or 
 if a servant, under his master's command transport- 
 ing a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die 
 in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the 
 business of the master the author of the servant's 
 damnation : but this is not so : the king is not bound 
 to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the 
 father of his son, nor the master of his servant ; for 
 they purpose not their death, when they purpose 
 their services. Besides, there is no king, be his 
 cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement 
 of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers : 
 some peradventure have on them the guilt of pre- 
 
 1 The last day, the Day of Judg^inent. 2 Suddenly. 
 
2 28 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 meditated and contrived murder ; some, of beguiling 
 virgins with the broken seals of perjury ; some, mak- 
 ing the wars their bulwark, that have before gored 
 the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. 
 Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun 
 native punishment,* though they can outstrip men, 
 they have no wings to fly from God : war is his 
 beadle, war is his vengeance ; so that here men are 
 punished for before-breach of the king's laws in now 
 the king's quarrel : where they feared the death, they 
 have borne life away ; and where they would be safe, 
 they perish : then if they die unprovided, no more is 
 the king guilty of their damnation than he was before 
 guilty of those impieties for the which they are now 
 visited. Every subject's duty is the king's; but 
 every subject's soul is his own. Therefore should 
 every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his 
 bed, wash every mote out of his conscience : and 
 dying so, death is to him advantage ; or not dying, 
 the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation 
 was gained : and in him that escapes, it were not sin 
 to think, that, making God so free an offer, he let 
 him outlive that day to see his greatness, and to 
 teach others how they should prepare. 
 
 Will. 'T is certain, every man that dies ill, the ill 
 is upon his own head, the king is not to answer it. 
 
 1 i.e. Punishment in their native country. 
 
King Henry V, 229 
 
 THE MISERIES OF ROYALTY. 
 
 O hard condition. 
 Twin-born with greatness, subject 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, show me but thy worth ! 
 What is thy 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? 
 Canst 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 ; 
 
 1 " What is the real worth and intrinsic value of adoration? " 
 
230 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 I am a king that find thee, and I know 
 
 'T is not the bahn, the sceptre, and the ball. 
 
 The sword, the mace, the crown imperial. 
 
 The intertissued 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 filPd 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 Phcebus and all night 
 
 Sleeps in Elysium ; next day after dawn, 
 
 Doth rise and help Hyperion 2 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. 
 
 KING henry's prayer BEFORE BATTLE. 
 
 O God of battles ! steel my soldiers' hearts ; 
 Possess them not with fear ; take from them now 
 The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers 
 Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord, 
 
 1 Farced is stuffed. The tumid puffy titles with which a king's 
 name is introduced. * The sun. 
 
King Henry V, 231 
 
 O, not to-day, think not upon the fault 
 My father made in compassing the crown ! 
 I Richard's body have interred new ; 
 And on it Imve bestowed more contrite tears 
 Than from it issued forced drops of blood : 
 Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 
 Who twice a-day their withered hands hold up 
 Toward heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have buiit 
 Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
 Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do; 
 Though all that I can do is nothing worth, 
 Since that my penitence comes after all, 
 Imploring pardon. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE MISERABLE STATE OF THE 
 ENGLISH ARMY. 
 
 Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
 Ill-fa vouredly become the morning field : 
 Their ragged curtains ' poorly are let loose. 
 And our air shakes them passing scornfully : 
 Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host, 
 And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps : 
 Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks. 
 With torch-staves in their hand ; and their poor jades 
 Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips. 
 The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes. 
 And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal ^ bit 
 Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless ; 
 
 1 Colours. 2 A bridle bit of interlocked rings. 
 
232 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And their executors, the knavish crows, 
 Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour. 
 
 KING HENRY S SPEECH BEFORE THE BATTLE OF 
 AGINCOURT. 
 
 If we are mark'd to die, we are enow 
 
 To do our country loss ; and if to live. 
 
 The fewer men, the greater share of honour. 
 
 God's will ! I pray thee, wish not one man more. 
 
 By Jove, I am not covetous for gold. 
 
 Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ; 
 
 It yearns me not if men my garments wear ; 
 
 Such outward things dwell not in my desires : 
 
 But if it be a sin to covet honour, 
 
 I am the most offending soul alive. 
 
 No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: 
 
 God's peace ! I would not lose so great an honour 
 
 As one man more, methinks, would share from me 
 
 For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one 
 
 more ! 
 Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, 
 That he which hath no stomach to this fight. 
 Let him depart ; his passport shall be made 
 And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 
 We would not die in that man's company 
 That fears his fellowship to die with us. 
 This day is call'd the feast of Crispian : 
 He that outlives this day, and comes safe home. 
 Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
 
Kmg Henry V. 233 
 
 He that shall live this day, and see old age, 
 
 Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, 
 
 And say ' To-morrow is Saint Crispian : ' 
 
 Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, 
 
 And say ' These wounds I had on Crispin's day.' 
 
 Old men forget : yet all shall be forgot, 
 
 But he '11 remember with advantages 
 
 What feats he did that day : then shall our names. 
 
 Familiar in their mouths as household words, 
 
 Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, 
 
 Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, 
 
 Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd. 
 
 This story shall the good man teach his son,- 
 
 And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by. 
 
 From this day to the ending of the world. 
 
 But we in it shall be remembered ; 
 
 We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; 
 
 For he to-day that sheds his blood with me 
 
 Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile. 
 
 This day shall gentle his condition : 
 
 And gentlemen in England now a-bed 
 
 Shall think themselves accursed they were not here. 
 
 And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks 
 
 That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. 
 
 EXETER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE DUKE OF YORK'S 
 DEATH. 
 
 Suifolk first died : and York, all haggled over. 
 Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd. 
 And takes him by the beard ; kisses the gashes 
 
2 34 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That bloodily did yawn upon his face ; 
 
 And cries aloud, ' Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk ! 
 
 My soul shall thine keep company to heaven ; 
 
 Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast. 
 
 As in this glorious and well-foughten field 
 
 We kept together in our chivalry ! ' 
 
 Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up : 
 
 He smiled me in the face, raught ' me his hand, 
 
 And, with a feeble gripe, says ♦ Dear my lord, 
 
 Commend my service to my sovereign.' 
 
 So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck 
 
 He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips ; 
 
 And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd 
 
 A testament of noble-ending love. 
 
 The pretty and sweet manner of it forced 
 
 Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd ; 
 
 But I had not so much of man in me, 
 
 And all my mother came into mine eyes 
 
 And gave me up to tears. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 THE STATE OF FRANCE AFTER THE WAR. 
 
 All her husbandry doth lie on heaps, 
 Corrupting in its own fertility. 
 Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
 Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd,'' 
 Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, 
 
 1 Reached. 2 pleated. 
 
King Henry V. 235 
 
 Put forth disordered twigs ; her fallow leas 
 
 The darnel, hemlock and rank fumitory, 
 
 Doth root upon ; while that the coulter ^ rusts 
 
 That should deracinate ^ such savagery : 
 
 The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
 
 The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, 
 
 Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, 
 
 Conceives by idleness and nothing teems 
 
 But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, 
 
 Losing both beauty and utility. 
 
 And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges. 
 
 Defective in their natures, grow to wildness. 
 
 Even so our houses and ourselves and children 
 
 Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, 
 
 The sciences that should become our country ; 
 
 But grow like savages, — as soldiers will 
 
 That nothing do but meditate on blood, — 
 
 To swearing and stern looks, defused attire, 
 
 And every thing that seems unnatural. 
 
 1 Ploughshare. 2 Uproot. 
 
KING HENRY VI. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 GLORY. 
 
 Glory is like a circle in the water, 
 
 Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself 
 
 Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought. 
 
 JOAN OF ARC. 
 
 'T is Joan, not we, by whom the day is won ; 
 For which I will divide my crown with her. 
 And all the priests and friars in my realm 
 Shall in procession sing her endless praise. 
 A statelier pyramid to her I '11 rear 
 Than Rhodope's or Memphis' ever was : 
 In memory of her when she is dead, 
 Her ashes, in an urn more precious 
 Than the rich-jeweird coffer of Darius, 
 Transported shall be at high festivals 
 Before the kings and queens of France. 
 No longer on Saint Denis will we cry. 
 But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. • 
 
King Henry VL 237 
 
 Come in, and let us banquet royally, 
 After this golden day of victory. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 FAINT HEART NE'ER WON FAIR LADY. 
 
 She 's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd ; 
 She is a woman, therefore to be won. 
 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 Marriage is a matter of more worth 
 Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.* 
 
 For what is wedlock forced but a hell, 
 An age of discord and continual strife ? 
 Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, 
 And is a pattern of celestial peace. 
 
 1 By the discretional agency of another. 
 
KING HENRY VI. 
 
 PART II. 
 ACT I. 
 
 A RESOLVED AND AMBITIOUS WOMAN. 
 
 Follow I must, I cannot go before, 
 
 While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. 
 
 Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, 
 
 I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks 
 
 And smooth my way upon their headless necks : 
 
 And, being a woman, I will not be slack 
 
 To play my part in Fortune's pageant. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 god's GOODNESS EVER TO BE REMEMBERED. 
 
 Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, 
 But still remember what the Lord hath done. 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER'S REMONSTRANCE TO 
 HER HUSBAND, WHEN DOING PENANCE. 
 
 Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself! 
 For whilst I think I am thy married wife, 
 
King Henry VI. 239 
 
 And thou a prince, protector of this land, 
 
 Methinks I should not thus be led along, 
 
 Maird up in shame, ^ with papers on my back. 
 
 And follovv'd with a rabble that rejoice 
 
 To see my tears and hear my deep-fet ^ groans. 
 
 The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, 
 
 And when I start, the envious people laugh 
 
 And bid me advised how I tread. 
 
 Ah, Humphrey, can 1 bear this shameful yoke? 
 
 Trow'st thou that e^er I Ul look upon the world, 
 
 Or count them happy that enjoy the sun ? 
 
 No : dark shall be my light and night my day ; 
 
 To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. 
 
 Sometime I '11 say, I am Duke Humphrey's wife, 
 
 And he a prince and ruler of the land : 
 
 Yet so he ruled and such a prince he was 
 
 As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess. 
 
 Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock 
 
 To every idle rascal follower. 
 
 But be thou mild and blush not at my shame, 
 
 Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death 
 
 Hang over thee, as sure, it shortly will. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 SILENT RESENTMENT DEEPEST. 
 
 Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ; 
 And in his simple show he harbours treason. 
 
 1 Wrapped up in disgrace; alluding to the sheet of penance 
 •Deep-fetched. 
 
240 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 A GUILTY COUNTENANCE, 
 
 Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny 
 Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A MURDERED PERSON. 
 
 See how the blood is settled in his face. 
 Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,' 
 Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, 
 Being all descended to the labouring heart ; 
 Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, 
 Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy ; 
 Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth 
 To blush and beautify the cheek again. 
 But see, his face is black, and full of blood. 
 His eyeballs further out than when he lived. 
 Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man ; 
 His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with strug- 
 gling ; 
 His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasp'd 
 And tugg'd for life and was by strength subdued. 
 Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking: 
 His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, 
 Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. 
 It cannot be but he was murder'd here ; 
 The least of all these signs were probable. 
 
 1 A body become inanimate in the common course of nature; to 
 which violence has not brought a timeless end. 
 
King Henry Vl. 241 
 
 A GOOD CONSCIENCE. 
 
 What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ! 
 Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just, 
 And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 
 
 REMORSELESS HATRED. 
 
 A plague upon them ! Wherefore should I curse 
 
 them? 
 Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, 
 I would invent as bitter-searching terms. 
 As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear. 
 Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, 
 With full as many signs of deadly hate, 
 As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave : 
 My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words ; 
 Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint ; 
 My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract ; 
 Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban : 
 And even now my burthen'd heart would break. 
 Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink ! 
 Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste ! 
 Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees ! 
 Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks ! 
 Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings ! 
 Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss. 
 And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! 
 All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell — 
 
242 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Now, by the ground that I am banished from, 
 Well could I curse away a winter's night, 
 Though standing naked on a mountain top, 
 Where biting cold would never let grass grow, 
 And think it but a minute spent in sport. 
 
 PARTING LOVERS. 
 
 Queen. And banished I am, if but from thee. 
 Go ; speak not to me ; even now be gone. 
 O, go not yet ! Even thus two friends condemn'd 
 Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves, 
 Loather a hundred times to part than die. 
 Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee ! 
 
 Suffolk. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished ; 
 Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. 
 'T is not the land I care for, wert thou thence ; 
 A wilderness is populous enough. 
 So Suffolk had thy heavenly company : 
 For where thou art, there is the world itself, 
 With every several pleasure in the world ; 
 And where thou art not, desolation. 
 
 DYING WITH THE PERSON BELOVED PREFERABLE 
 TO PARTING. 
 
 If I depart from thee, I cannot live ; 
 And in thy sight to die, what were it else 
 But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? 
 Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
 As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe, 
 
King Henry VI. 243 
 
 Dying with mother's dug between its lips : 
 Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad 
 And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, 
 To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth ; 
 So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, 
 Or I should breathe it so into thy body. 
 And then it lived in sweet Elysium. 
 To die by thee were but to die in jest ; 
 From thee to die were torture more than death. 
 
 THE DEATH-BED HORRORS OF A GUILTY 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
 
 Died he not in his bed? where should he die? 
 
 Can I make men live, whether they will or no? 
 
 O, torture me no more ! I will confess. 
 
 Alive again ? then show me where he is : 
 
 I '11 give a thousand pound to look upon him. 
 
 He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. 
 
 Comb down his hair ; look ! look ! it stands upright, 
 
 Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul. 
 
 Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
 
 Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 The gaudy, blabbing and remorseful ^ day 
 Is crept into the bosom of the sea ; 
 
 1 Pitiful. 
 
244 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
 That drag the tragic melancholy night ; 
 Who, with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings. 
 Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws 
 Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 
 
 A revolutionist's promise. 
 
 Cade. There shall be in England seven half-penny 
 loaves sold for a penny : the three-hooped pot shall 
 have ten hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink 
 small beer : all the realm shall be in common ; and 
 in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass : and when 
 I am king, as king I will be, — 
 
 All. God save your majesty ! 
 
 Cade. I thank you, good people : there shall be no 
 money ; all shall eat and drink on my score ; and I 
 will apparel them all in one livery, that they may 
 agree like brothers and worship me their lord. 
 
 Dick. The first thing we do, let 's kill all the 
 lawyers. 
 
 Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a 
 lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent 
 lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, 
 being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some 
 say the bee stings : but I say, 't is the bee's wax ; for 
 I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine 
 own man since. 
 
King Henry VL 245 
 
 LORD say's apology FOR HIMSELF. 
 
 Justice with favour have I always done ; 
 Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts could never. 
 When have I aught exacted at your hands, 
 But to maintain the king, the realm and you? 
 Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, 
 Because my book preferred me to the king : 
 And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
 Knowledge the win* wherewith we fly to heaven, 
 Unless you be possessed with devilish spirits, 
 You cannot but forbear to murder me. 
 
KING HENRY VI. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 THE TRANSPORTS OF A CROWN. 
 
 Do but think 
 How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ; 
 Within whose circuit is Elysium 
 And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. 
 
 A HUNGRY LION. 
 
 So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch 
 That trembles under his devouring paws ; 
 And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, 
 And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder. 
 
 THE DUKE OF YORK ON THE GALLANT BEHAVIOUR 
 OF HIS SONS. 
 
 My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them : 
 But this I know, they have demean'd themselves 
 Like men born to renown by life or death. 
 Three times did Richard make a lane to me. 
 And thrice cried ♦ Courage, father ! fight it out ! ' 
 
King Henry Vl. 247 
 
 And full as oft came Edward to my side, 
 
 With purple falchion, painted to the hilt 
 
 I J blood of those that had encountered him : 
 
 And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 
 
 Richard cried ' Charge ! and give no foot of ground ! ' 
 
 And cried ' A Crown, or else a glorious tomb ! 
 
 A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre ! ' 
 
 With this, we charged again ; but out, alas ! 
 
 We bodged ' again ; as I have seen a swan 
 
 With bootless labour swim against the tide 
 
 And spend her strength with over-matching waves. 
 
 A father's passion on the murder of a favour- 
 ite CHILD. 
 
 O, tiger's heart, wrapt in a woman's hide ! 
 How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, 
 To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, 
 And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ? 
 Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ; 
 Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. 
 
 That face of his the hungry cannibals 
 
 Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with 
 
 blood : 
 But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, 
 O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. 
 See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears : 
 This cloth thou dip'dst in blood of my sweet boy, 
 
 * I. e.y We boggled, made bad or bungling work of our attempt 
 to rally. 
 
248 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 And I with tears do wash the blood away. 
 Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this : 
 And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, 
 Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears ; 
 Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, 
 And say ♦ Alas, it was a piteous deed ! ' 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 THE DUKE OF YORK IN BATTLE. 
 
 Methought, he bore him > in the thickest troop 
 As doth a lion in a herd of neat ; '^ 
 Or as a bear, encompassed round with dogs, 
 Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, 
 The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 See how the morning opes her golden gates, 
 And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ! ^ 
 How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
 Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love ! 
 
 AN UNCERTAIN BATTLE. 
 
 This battle fares like to the morning's war, 
 When dying clouds contend with growing light. 
 What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
 
 ^ Demeaned himself. 2 Neat cattle, cows, oxen, etc. 
 
 8 Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when she dis- 
 misses him to his diurnal course. 
 
King Henry VL 249 
 
 Can neither call it perfect day nor night. 
 Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea 
 Forced by the tide to combat with the wind ; 
 Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea 
 Forced to retire by fury of the wind : 
 Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind ; 
 Now one the better, then another best ; 
 Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, 
 Yet neither conqueror nor conquered : 
 So is the equal poise of this fell war. 
 
 THE BLESSINGS OF A SHEPHERD'S LIFE. 
 
 O God ! methinks it were a happy life, 
 
 To be no better than a homely swain ; 
 
 To sit upon a hill, as I do now. 
 
 To carv-e out dials quaintly, point by point, 
 
 Thereby to see the minutes how they run. 
 
 How many make the hour full complete ; 
 
 How many hours bring about the day ; 
 
 How many days will finish up the year ; 
 
 How many years a mortal man may live. 
 
 When this is known, then to divide the times : 
 
 So many hours must I tend my flock ; 
 
 So many hours must I take my rest ; 
 
 So many hours must I contemplate ; 
 
 So many hours must I sport myself; 
 
 So many days my ewes have been with young ; 
 
 So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean ; 
 
 So many years ere I shall shear the fleece : 
 
 So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, 
 
250 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 PassM over to the end they were created, 
 
 Would bring white hairs into a quiet grave. 
 
 Ah, what a Ufe were this ! how sweet ! how lovely! 
 
 Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade 
 
 To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep. 
 
 Than doth a rich embroidcr'd canopy 
 
 To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? 
 
 O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. 
 
 And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, 
 
 His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 
 
 His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade. 
 
 All which secure and sweetly he enjoys. 
 
 Is far beyond a prince's delicates. 
 
 His viands sparkling in a golden cup. 
 
 His body couched in a curious bed. 
 
 When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 A king's true crown. 
 
 My crown is in my heart, not on my head ; 
 Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, 
 Nor to be seen ; my crown is called content : 
 A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. 
 
 FICKLENESS OF MEN. 
 
 Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! 
 Look, as I blow this feather from my face. 
 And as the air blows it to me again, 
 
King Henry FL 251 
 
 Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 
 And yielding to another when it blows, 
 Commanded always by the greater gust ; 
 Such is the lightness of you common men. 
 
 A SIMILE ON AMBITIOUS THOUGHTS. 
 
 Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty ; 
 
 Like one that stands upon a promontory. 
 
 And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, 
 
 Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, 
 
 And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, 
 
 Saying, he '11 lade it dry to have his way. 
 
 GLOUCESTER'S DEFORMITY. 
 
 Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : 
 And, for I should not deal in her soft laws. 
 She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe. 
 To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ; 
 To make an envious mountain on my back, 
 Where sits deformity to mock my body ; 
 To shape my legs of an unequal size ; 
 To disproportion me in every part. 
 Like to a chaos, or an unHck'd bear-whelp, 
 That carries no impression like the dam. 
 And am I then a man to be beloved? 
 
 GLOUCESTER'S DISSIMULATION. 
 
 Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile. 
 And cry ♦ Content ' to that which grieves my heart. 
 
252 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
 
 And frame my face to all occasions. 
 
 I '11 drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ; 
 
 I Ul slay more gazers than the basilisk ; 
 
 I 11 play the orator as well as Nestor, 
 
 Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, 
 
 And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. 
 
 I can add colours to the cameleon, 
 
 Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, 
 
 And set the murderous Machiavel to school. 
 
 Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 HENRY VI. ON HIS OWN LENITY. 
 
 I have not stopped mine ears to their demands, 
 Nor posted off their suits with slow delays ; 
 My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds. 
 My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, 
 My mercy dried their water-flowing tears ; 
 I have not been desirous of their wealth, 
 Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies. 
 Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 DYING SPEECH OF THE EARL OF WARWICK. 
 
 Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe. 
 And tell me, who is victor, York or Warwick? 
 
King Henry VL 253 
 
 Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, 
 
 My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, 
 
 That I must yield my body to the earth 
 
 And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 
 
 Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge. 
 
 Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, 
 
 Under whose shade the ramping lion slept. 
 
 Whose top-branch over-peer'd Jove's spreading tree 
 
 And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. 
 
 These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black 
 
 veil, 
 Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, 
 To search the secret treasons of the world : 
 The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood, 
 Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; 
 For who lived king, but I could dig his grave ? 
 And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? 
 Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood ! 
 My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, 
 Even now forsake me, and of all my lands 
 Is nothing left me but my body's length ! 
 
 QUEEN MARGARET'S SPEECH BEFORE THE BATTLE 
 OF TEWKSBURY. 
 
 Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say 
 My tears gaiiisay;^ for every word I speak, 
 Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. 
 Therefore, no more but this : Henry, your sovereign, 
 Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd, 
 
 1 Unsay, deny. 
 
2 54 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, 
 His statutes cancelPd, and his treasure spent ; 
 And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. 
 You fight in justice : then, in God's name, lords, 
 Be valiant and give signal to the fight. 
 
 OMENS ON THE BIRTH OF RICHARD IIT 
 
 Gloucester. Suspicion always haunts the guilty 
 mind : 
 The thief doth fear each bush an officer. 
 
 King Henry. The bird that hath been lirhr-d in 
 a bush. 
 With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush ; 
 And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird. 
 Have now the fatal object in my eye 
 Where my poor young was limed, was caught ai-d 
 kiird. 
 
 Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Cre 
 That taught his son the office of a fowl ; 
 And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drownM. 
 
 K. Hen. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; 
 Thy father, Minos, that denied our course ; 
 The son that searM the wings of my sweet boy 
 Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea 
 Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. 
 Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with' words ! 
 My breast can better brook thy dagger's point 
 Than can my ears that tragic history. 
 But wherefore dost thou come ? is 't for my life ? 
 
 Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner? 
 
King Henry J^L 255 
 
 K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art : 
 If murdering innocents be executing, 
 Why, then thou art an executioner. 
 
 Glo. Thy son I kiird for his presumption. 
 
 K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first thou 
 didst presume, 
 Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. 
 And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand, 
 Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear. 
 And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's, 
 And many an orphan's water-standing eye — 
 Men for their sons, wives for their husbands. 
 And orphans for their parents' timeless death — 
 Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. 
 The owl shriek'd at thy birth, — an evil sign ; 
 The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ; 
 Dogs howFd, and hideous tempest shook down trees ; 
 The raven rook'd ^ her on the chimney's top. 
 And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
 Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain. 
 And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, 
 To wit, an indigested and deformed lump, 
 Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 
 Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, 
 To signify thou camest to bite the world : 
 And, if the rest be true which I have heard. 
 Thou camest — 
 
 Glo. I '11 hear no more: die, prophet, in thy 
 speech : \Stabs him. 
 
 For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. 
 
 1 ' To rook ' signifies to squat down or lodge on anything. 
 
256 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after 
 this. 
 O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee ! \Dies. 
 
 Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster 
 Sink in the ground? I thought it would have 
 
 mounted. 
 See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 
 
 0, may such purple tears be alvvay shed 
 
 From those that wish the downfall of our house ! 
 
 If any spark of life be yet remaining, 
 
 Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither; 
 
 \Stabs him again, 
 
 1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF THE COURT. 
 
 And now what rests but that we spend the time 
 With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, 
 Such as befits the pleasure of the court? 
 Sound drums and trumpets ! farewell sour annoy ! 
 
KING RICHARD III. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER ON HIS OWN ' 
 DEFORMITY. 
 
 Now is the winter of our discontent 
 
 Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; 
 
 And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house 
 
 In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
 
 Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; 
 
 Our bruised arms hung up for mqnuments ; 
 
 Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, 
 
 Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.' 
 
 Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front ; 
 
 And now, instead of mounting barbed 2 steeds 
 
 To fright the souls of fearful adversaries. 
 
 He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber 
 
 To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 
 
 But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, 
 
 Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass, 
 
 I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty 
 
 To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ; 
 
 I, that am curtaiPd of this fair proportion, 
 
 Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
 
 » Dances. « Armed. 
 
258 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Deform 'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time 
 
 Into this breathing world, scarce half made up^ 
 
 And that so lamely and unfashionable, 
 
 That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them ; 
 
 Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, 
 
 Have no delight to pass away the time, 
 
 Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, 
 
 And descant on mine own deformity : 
 
 And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover. 
 
 To entertain these fair well-spoken days, 
 
 I am determined to prove a villain 
 
 And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 
 
 GLOUCESTER'S LOVE FOR LADY ANNE. 
 
 Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears. 
 Shamed their aspects with store of childish drops : 
 These eyes, which never shed remorseful ^ tear, 
 No, when my father York and Edward wept, 
 To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made 
 When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him ; 
 Nor when thy warlike father, like a child. 
 Told the sad story of my father's death. 
 And twenty times made pause to sob and weep. 
 That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks. 
 Like trees bedash'd with rain : in that sad time. 
 My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; 
 And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, 
 Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weep- 
 ing. 
 
 1 Pitiful. 
 
King Richard III, 259 
 
 I never sued to friend nor enemy ; 
 My tongue could never learn sweet soothing words, 
 But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 
 My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to 
 speak. 
 
 GLOUCESTER'S PRAISES OF HIS OWN PERSON, AFTER 
 HIS SUCCESSFUL ADDRESSES. 
 
 My dukedom to a beggarly denier,' 
 I do mistake my person all this while : 
 Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, 
 Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
 I '11 be at charges for a looking-glass, 
 And entertain some score or two of tailors, 
 To study fashions to adorn my body : 
 Since I am crept in favour with myself, 
 I will maintain it with some little cost. 
 
 FRANK SPEECH NO SIGN OF MALICE. 
 
 Because I cannot flatter and speak fair. 
 
 Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog,' 
 
 Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 
 
 I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
 
 Cannot a plain man live and think no harm. 
 
 But thus his simple truth must be abused 
 
 By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? 
 
 1 A small French coin. » Wheedle. 
 
26o Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 QUEEN MARGARET'S EXECRATIONS ON GLOUCESTER 
 
 The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul ! 
 Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest, 
 And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! 
 No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, 
 Unless it be while some tormenting dream 
 Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils \ 
 Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog ! 
 Thou that wast seaPd in thy nativity 
 The slave of nature and the son of hell ! 
 Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb ! 
 Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins ! 
 Thou rag of honour ! thou detested — 
 
 DANGER OF HIGH POSITION. 
 
 They that stand high have many blasts to shake 
 
 them ; 
 And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. 
 
 HIGH BIRTH. 
 
 I was born so high, 
 Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top. 
 And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 
 
 GLOUCESTER. 
 
 Take heed of yonder dog ! 
 Look, when he fawns, he bites ; and when he bites. 
 His venom tooth will rankle to the death : 
 
King Richard III, 261 
 
 Have not to do with him, beware of him ; 
 
 Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, 
 
 And all their ministers attend on him. 
 
 GLOUCESTER'S HYPOCRISY. 
 
 But then I sigh ; and, with a piece of scripture, 
 Tell them that God bids us do good for evil : 
 And thus I clothe my naked villany 
 With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ ; 
 And seem a saint when most I play the devil. 
 
 clarence's dream. 
 Scene. London. The Tower. 
 Enter Clarence and Brakenbury. 
 Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily 
 
 to-day ? 
 Clareftce. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, 
 So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams. 
 That, as I am a Christian faithful man, 
 I would not spend another such a night. 
 Though 't were to buy a world of happy days. 
 So full of dismal terror was the time ! 
 
 Brak. What was your dream? I long to hear 
 
 you tell it. 
 Clar. Methoughts that I had broken from the 
 Tower, 
 And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ; 
 And, in my company, my brother Gloucester ; 
 Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
 
262 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Upon the hatches : thence we look'd toward England, 
 
 And cited up a thousand fearful times, 
 
 During the wars of York and Lancaster, 
 
 That had befallen us. As we paced along 
 
 Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
 
 Methought that Gloucester stumbled ; and, in falling, 
 
 Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, 
 
 Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
 
 Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown-! 
 
 What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears ! 
 
 What ugly sights of death within mine eyes ! 
 
 Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 
 
 Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 
 
 Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
 
 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 
 
 All scattered in the bottom of the sea : 
 
 Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and, in those holes 
 
 Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept. 
 
 As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems. 
 
 That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep. 
 
 And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattered by. 
 
 Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death, 
 To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ? 
 
 Clar. Methought I had ; and often did I strive 
 To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood 
 Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
 To seek the empty, vast and wandering air ; 
 But smothered it within my panting bulk,* 
 Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 
 
 Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony? 
 
 1 Body. 
 
King Richard II L 263 
 
 Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life : 
 O, then began the tempest to my soul, 
 Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, 
 With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
 Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
 The first that there did greet my stranger soul, 
 Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; 
 Who cried aloud, ' What scourge for perjury 
 Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ? ' 
 And so he vanishM : then came wandering by 
 A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
 Dabbled in blood : and he squeak'd out aloud, 
 ' Clarence is come ; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, 
 That stabb'd me in the field by 7"ewksbury ; 
 Seize on him. Furies, take him to your torments ! ' 
 With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends 
 Environed me about, and howled in mine ears 
 Such hideous cries, that with the very noise 
 I trembling waked, and for a season after 
 Could not believe but that I was in hell, 
 Such terrible impression made the dream. 
 
 Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you : 
 I promise you, I am afraid to hear you tell it. 
 
 Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done those things. 
 Which now bear evidence against my soul. 
 For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites me ! 
 O God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, 
 But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, 
 Yet execute thy wrath in me alone, 
 O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! 
 
264 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 SORROW. 
 
 Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, 
 
 Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. 
 
 THE CARES OF GREATNESS. 
 
 Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
 An outward honour for an inward toil ; 
 And, for unfelt imagination. 
 They often feel a world of restless cares : 
 So that, between their titles and low names. 
 There 's nothing differs but the outward fame. 
 
 A murderer's account of CONSCIENCE. 
 
 I '11 not meddle with it : it is a dangerous thing : 
 it makes a man a coward : a man cannot steal, but it 
 accuseth him ; he cannot swear, but it checks him ; 
 he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects 
 him : 't is a blushing shamefast sjDirit that mutinies 
 in a man's bosom ; it fills one full of obstacles ; it 
 made me once restore a purse of gold that I found ; 
 it beggars any man that keeps it ; it is turned out of 
 all towns and cities for -a dangerous thing; and every 
 man that means to live well endeavours to trust to 
 himself and live without it. 
 
King Richard HI. 265 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 DECEIT. 
 
 Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, 
 And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile ! 
 
 SUBMISSION TO HEAVEN OUR DUTY. 
 
 In common worldly things, 't is call'd ungrateful, 
 With dull unwillingness to repay a debt 
 Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ; 
 Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, 
 For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 
 
 THE DUCHESS OF YORK'S LAMENTATION ON THE 
 MISFORTUNES OF HER FAMILY. 
 
 Accursed and unquiet wrangling days. 
 
 How many of you have mine eyes beheld ! 
 
 My husband lost his life to get the crown ; 
 
 And often up and down my sons were toss'd 
 
 For me to joy and weep their gain and loss : 
 
 And being seated, and domestic broils 
 
 Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, ' 
 
 Make war upon themselves ; blood against blood. 
 
 Self against self: O, preposterous 
 
 And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen ; 
 
 Or let me die, to look on death no more ! 
 
266 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 JULIUS C^SAR. 
 
 That Julius Caesar was a famous man ; 
 With what his valour did enrich his wit, 
 His wit set down to make his valour live : 
 Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ; 
 For now he lives in fame, though not in life. 
 
 THE VANITY OF TRUST IN MAN. 
 
 O momentary grace of mortal men, 
 
 Which we more hunt for than the grace of God ! 
 
 Who builds his hope in air of your good looks, 
 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, 
 
 Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
 
 Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 
 
 THE DEEP TRAGEDIAN. 
 
 Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian ; 
 Speak and look back, and pry on every side, 
 Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, 
 Intending deep suspicion : ghastly looks 
 Are at my service, like enforced smiles; 
 And both are ready in their offices. 
 At any time, to grace my stratagems. 
 
King Richard III. 267 
 
 CONTEMPLATION. 
 
 When holy and devout religious men 
 
 Are at their beads, H is hard to draw them thence, 
 
 So sweet is zealous contemplation. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE MURDER OF THE TWO YOUNG 
 PRINCES IN THE TOWER. 
 
 The tyrannous and bloody act is done, 
 The most arch deed of piteous massacre 
 That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
 Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
 To do this ruthless ' piece of butchery. 
 Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, 
 Melting with tenderness and mild compassion 
 Wept like two children, in their death's sad stories. 
 
 ♦ Lo, thus,' quoth Dighton, ' lay those tender babes : ' 
 
 * Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, ' girdling one another 
 Within their innocent alabaster arms ; 
 
 Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, 
 
 Which in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other. 
 
 A book of prayers on their pillow lay : 
 
 Which once,' quoth Forrest, * almost changed my 
 
 mind ; 
 But, O ! the devil ' — there the villain stopp'd ; 
 Whilst Dighton thus told on : ' We smothered 
 
 1 Merciless, 
 
2 68 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 The most replenished sweet work of nature, 
 That from the prime creation, e'er she framed.' 
 Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse ; 
 They could not speak ; and so I left them both, 
 To bring this tidings to the bloody king. 
 
 EXPEDITION. 
 
 Come, I have heard that fearful commenting 
 
 Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; 
 
 Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary : 
 
 Then fiery expedition be my wing, 
 
 Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 
 
 QUEEN MARGARET'S EXPROBRATION. 
 
 I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune ; 
 
 I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen : 
 
 The presentation of but what I was. 
 
 The flattering index ^ of a direful pageant. 
 
 One heaved a-high to be hurl'd down below ; 
 
 A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes ; 
 
 A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, 
 
 A sign of dignity, a garish ^ flag, 
 
 To be the aim of every dangerous shot ; 
 
 A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 
 
 Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? 
 
 Where are thy children ? wherein dost thou joy ? 
 
 Who sues to thee and cries * God save the queen ' ? 
 
 1 The index was anciently placed at the beginning of books. 
 
 2 Flaring. 
 
King Richard III. 269 
 
 Where be the bending peers that flattered thee ? 
 
 Where be the thronging troops that followed thee ? ■ 
 
 Decline all this, and see what now thou art : 
 
 For happy wife, a most distressed widow ; 
 
 For joyful mother, one that wails the name ; 
 
 For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ; 
 
 For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care ; 
 
 For one that scorn'd at me, now scornM of me ; 
 
 For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ; 
 
 For one commanding all, obey'd of none. 
 
 Thus hath the course of justice wheePd about, 
 
 And left thee but a very prey to time ; 
 
 Having no more but thought of what thou wert. 
 
 To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 
 
 CHARACTER OF KING RICHARD BY HIS MOTHER. 
 
 Tetchy ' and wayward was thy infancy ; 
 Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furi- 
 ous; 
 Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous ; 
 Thy age confirmed, proud, subtle, bloody, treach- 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 True hope is swift, and flies with swallows' wings ; 
 Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. 
 
 1 Touchy, fretful. 
 
270 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A FINE EVENING. 
 
 The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
 And, by the bright track of his fiery car, 
 Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. 
 
 DAY-BREAK. 
 
 The silent hours steal on. 
 And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 
 
 RICHMOND'S PRAYER. 
 
 O Thou ! whose captain I account myself. 
 Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
 Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, 
 That they may crush down with a heavy fall 
 The usurping helmets of our adversaries ! 
 Make us thy ministers of chastisement. 
 That we may praise thee in the victory ! 
 To thee I do commend my watchful soul. 
 Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes : 
 Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still ! 
 
 DREAMS BEFORE BATTLE. 
 
 Ghosts. [To Richard.'] Dream on thy cousins 
 smothered in the Tower : 
 Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, 
 And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death ! 
 Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die ! — 
 
King Richard III. 271 
 
 \To Richmond. ~\ Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, 
 
 and wake in joy ; 
 Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy ! 
 Live, and beget a happy race of kings ! 
 Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. 
 
 Enter the Ghost of Lady Anne. 
 
 Ghost. \To Richard.'] Richard, thy wife, that 
 wretched Anne thy wife, 
 That never slept a quiet hour with thee, 
 Now fills thy sleep with perturbations : 
 To-morrow in the battle think on me. 
 And fall thy edgeless sword : despair, and die ! 
 \To Richniond.] Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet 
 
 sleep ; 
 Dream of success and happy victory ! 
 Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. 
 
 Enter the Ghost of Buckingham. 
 
 Ghost. \To Richard.] The first was I that help'd 
 thee to the crown ; 
 The last was I that felt thy tyranny : 
 O, in the battle think on Buckingham, 
 And die in terror of thy guiltiness ! 
 Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death : 
 Fainting, despair ; despairing, yield thy breath ! 
 \To Richmond.] I died for hope ere I could lend 
 
 thee aid : 
 But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd ; 
 
272 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 God and good angels fight on Richmond's side ; 
 And Richard falls in height of all his pride. 
 
 [The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts out of his 
 drea?n.'\ 
 K. Rich. Give me another horse : bind up my 
 wounds. 
 Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft ! I did but dream. 
 O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! 
 The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. 
 Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 What do I fear ? myself t 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 
 Devised at first to keep the strong in awe. 
 
 RICHARD'S ADDRESS BEFORE THE BATTLE. 
 
 Hark ! I hear their drum. 
 Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen ! 
 Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head ! 
 Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood; 
 Amaze the welkin with your broken staves ! 
 
 A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : 
 Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
 Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
 Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! 
 Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. 
 
King Richard III, 273 
 
 RICHARD'S BEHAVIOUR AFTER AN ALARUM. 
 
 J^zng Richard. A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom 
 for a horse ! 
 
 Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I '11 help you to a horse. 
 
 K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, 
 And I will stand the hazard of the die : 
 I think there be six Richmonds in the field ; 
 Five have I slain to-day, instead of him. 
 A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 
 
KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 A ROYAL PAGEANT. 
 
 Each following day 
 Became the next day's master, till the last 
 Made former wonders its. To-day the French, 
 All clinquant,^ all in gold, like heathen gods, 
 Shone down the Enghsh ; and, to-morrow, they 
 Made Britain India : every man that stood 
 Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were 
 As cherubins, all gilt : the madams too, 
 Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear 
 The pride upon them, that their very labour 
 Was to them as a painting : now this masque 
 Was cried incomparable ; and the ensuing night 
 Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings, 
 Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, 
 As presence did present them ; him in eye, 
 Still him in praise ; and, being present both, 
 'T was said they saw but one ; and no discerner 
 Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these 
 
 suns — 
 For so they phrase 'em — by their heralds challenged 
 
 * Glittering. 
 
King Henry VIII. 275 
 
 The noble spirits to arms, they did perform 
 
 Beyond thought's compass ; that former fabulous 
 
 story, 
 Being now seen possible enough, got credit, 
 That Bevis was believed. 
 
 ANGER. 
 
 To climb steep hills 
 Requires slow pace at first : anger is like 
 A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, 
 Self-mettle tires him. 
 
 ACTIONS TO BE CARRIED ON WITH RESOLUTION. 
 
 If I am 
 Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know 
 My faculties nor person, yet will be 
 The chronicles of my doing, let me say, 
 'T is but the fate of place, and the rough brake ' 
 That virtue must go through. We must not stint ^ 
 Our necessary actions, in the fear 
 To cope ^ malicious censurers ; which ever, 
 As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow 
 That is new-trim mM, but benefit no further 
 Than vainly longing. What we oft do best. 
 By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is 
 Not ours, or not allowed ; ^ what worst, as oft, 
 Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
 For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
 
 1 Thicket of thorns. 2 Retard. 
 
 8 Encounter. * Approved, 
 
276 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, 
 We should take root here where we sit, or sit 
 State-statues only. 
 
 NEW CUSTOMS. 
 
 New customs. 
 Though they be never so ridiculous, 
 Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are followed. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S PRAYER FOR THE 
 KING. 
 
 My vows and prayers 
 Yet are the king's ; and till my soul forsake. 
 Shall cry for blessings on him : may he live 
 Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
 Ever beloved and loving may his rule be ! 
 And when old time shall lead him to his end. 
 Goodness and he fill up one monument ! 
 
 DEPENDENTS NOT TO BE TOO MUCH TRUSTED BY 
 GREAT MEN. 
 
 This from a dying man receive as certain : 
 Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels 
 Be sure you be not loose ; for those you make friends 
 And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
 The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
 Like water from ye, never found again 
 But where they mean to sink ye. 
 
King Henry FllL 277 
 
 A GOOD WIFE. 
 
 A loss of her 
 That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
 About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ; 
 Of her that loves him with that excellence 
 That angels love good men with ; even of her 
 That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls. 
 Will bless the king. 
 
 THE BLESSINGS OF A LOW STATION. 
 
 'T is better to be lowly born, 
 And range with humble livers in content, 
 Then to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, 
 And wear a golden sorrow. 
 
 QUEEN KATHARINE'S SPEECH TO HER HUSBAND. 
 
 Alas, sir, 
 In what have I offended you? what cause 
 Hath my 'behaviour given to your displeasure. 
 That thus you should proceed to put me off. 
 And take your good grace from me ? Heaven 
 
 witness, 
 I have been to you a true and humble wife, 
 At all times to your will conformable ; 
 Ever in fear to kindle your dislike. 
 Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry 
 As I saw it inclined : when was the hour 
 I ever contradicted your desire, 
 
278 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Or made it not mine too ? Or which of your friends 
 Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
 He were mine enemy? what friend of mine 
 That had to him derived your anger, did I 
 Continue in my liking? nay, gavp notice 
 He was from thence discharged? Sir, call to mind 
 That I have been your wife, in this obedience, 
 Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 
 With many children by you : if, in the course 
 And process of this time, you can report, 
 And prove it too, against mine honour aught, 
 My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty. 
 Against your sacred person, in God's name, 
 Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 
 Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
 To the sharpest kind of justice. 
 
 QUEEN KATHARINE'S SPEECH TO CARDINAL 
 WOLSEY. 
 
 You 're meek and humble-mouth'd ; 
 You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,' 
 With meekness and humility ; but your heart 
 Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. 
 You have, by fortune and his highness' favours. 
 Gone slightly o'er low steps and now are mounted 
 Where powers are your retainers, and your words. 
 Domestics to you, serve your will as 't please 
 Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, 
 You tender more your person's honour than 
 Your high profession spiritual. 
 
 1 Appearance. 
 
King Henry FllL 279 
 
 KING henry's character OF QUEEN KATHARINE, 
 
 That man i' the world who shall report he has 
 A better wife, let him in nought be trusted. 
 For speaking false in that : thou art, alone. 
 If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
 Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government. 
 Obeying in commanding, and thy parts 
 Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,' 
 The queen of earthly queens. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 QUEEN KATHARINE ON HER OWN MERIT. 
 
 Have I lived thus long — let me speak myself. 
 
 Since virtue finds no friends — a wife, a true one? 
 
 A woman, I dare say, without vain-glory, 
 
 Never yet branded with suspicion? 
 
 Have I with all my full affections 
 
 Still met the king? loved him next heaven? obey'd 
 
 him? 
 Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ? ^ 
 Almost forgot my prayers to content him ? 
 And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords. 
 Bring me a constant woman to her husband. 
 One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ; 
 And to that woman, when she has done most, 
 Yet will I add an honour, a great patience. 
 
 1 Speak out thy merits. 
 
 « Served him with superstitious attention. 
 
28o Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 QUEEN KATHARINE COMPARED TO A LILY. 
 
 Like the lily, 
 That once was mistress of the field and flourished, 
 I '11 hang my head and perish. 
 
 OBEDIENCE TO PRINCES. 
 
 The hearts of princes kiss obedience, 
 
 So much they love it ; but to stubborn spirits 
 
 They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. 
 
 A MIND NOT AT EASE. 
 
 Some strange commotion 
 Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ; 
 Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
 Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight, 
 Springs out into fast gait ; ^ then stops again. 
 Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts 
 His eye against the moon : in most strange postures 
 We have seen him set himself. 
 
 FIRM ALLEGIANCE. 
 
 Though perils did 
 Abound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and 
 Appear in forms more horrid, — yet my duty, 
 As doth a rock against the chiding flood, 
 Should the approach of this wild river oreak, 
 And stand unshaken yours. 
 
 » steps. 
 
' King Henry Fill. 281 
 
 A king's anger. 
 
 What sudden anger 's this ? how have I reap'd it ? 
 He parted frowning from me, as if ruin 
 Leap'd from his eyes : so looks the chafed lion 
 Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him ; 
 Then makes him nothing. 
 
 FALLING GREATNESS. 
 
 Nay then, farewell ! 
 I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness ; 
 And, from that full meridian of my glory, 
 I haste now to my setting : I shall fall 
 Like a bright exhalation in the evening, 
 And no man see me more. 
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 So farewell to the little good you bear me. 
 Farewell ! a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
 This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth 
 The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; 
 The third day comes a frost, a killing frost. 
 And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root. 
 And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured. 
 Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
 This many summers in a sea of glory. 
 But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
 
282 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 At length broke under me and now has left me, 
 Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
 Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide" me. 
 Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ; 
 I feel my heart new openM. O, how wretched 
 Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! 
 There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
 That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
 More pangs and fears than wars or women have : 
 And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
 Never to hope again. 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY'S SPEECH TO CROMWELL. 
 
 Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
 In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced 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 ; 
 By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then. 
 The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? 
 Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate 
 thee; 
 
King Henry yilL 283 
 
 Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
 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 Crom- 
 well, 
 Thou fall'st a blessed martyr ! Serve the king ; 
 And, — prythee, lead me in : 
 There take an inventory of all I have. 
 To the last penny ; 't is the king's ; my robe. 
 And my integrity to heaven, is all 
 I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, 
 Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
 I served my king. He would not in mine age 
 Have left me naked to mine enemies. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 APPLAUSE. 
 
 Such a noise arose 
 As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest. 
 As loud, and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks, — 
 Doublets, I think, — flew up ; and had their faces 
 Been loose, this day. they had been lost. Such joy 
 1 never saw before. 
 
 CARDINAL WOLSEY'S DEATH. 
 
 At last with easy roads, > he came to Leicester, 
 Lodged in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot, 
 
 1 By short stages. 
 
284 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 With all his covent, honourably received him ; 
 To whom he gave these words, ' O, father abbot, 
 An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
 Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
 Give him a little earth for charity ! ' 
 So went to bed ; where eagerly his sickness 
 Pursued him still ; and, three nights after this, 
 About the hour of eight, which he himself 
 Foretold should be his last, full of repentance, 
 Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows. 
 He gave his honours to the world again. 
 His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 
 
 wolsey's vices and virtues. 
 
 Queen Katharine. So may he rest : his faults lie 
 gently on him ! 
 Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, 
 And yet with charity. He was a man 
 Of an unbounded stomach,' ever ranking 
 Himself with princes ; one that, by suggestion. 
 Tied all the kingdom : simony was fair play ; 
 His own opinion was his law : i' the presence ' 
 He would says untruths ; and be ever double 
 Both in his words and meaning : he was never. 
 But where he meant to ruin, pitiful : 
 His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; 
 But his performance, as he is now, nothing: 
 Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
 The clergy ill example. 
 
 1 Pride. « Before the king. 
 
King Henry FIIL 285 
 
 Griffith. Noble madam, 
 
 Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues 
 We write in water. 
 
 This cardinal, 
 Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
 Was fashioned to * much honour from his cradle. 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
 Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : 
 Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; 
 But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. 
 And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
 Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam. 
 He was most princely : ever witness for him 
 Those twins of learning that he raised in you, 
 Ipswich and Oxford ! one ^ of which fell with him, 
 Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; 
 The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, 
 So excellent in art, and still so rising. 
 That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
 His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; 
 For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 
 And found the blessedness of being little ; 
 And, to add greater honours to his age 
 Than man could give him, he died fearing God. 
 
 Kath. After my death I wish no other herald, 
 No other speaker of my living actions. 
 To keep mine honour from corruption. 
 But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. 
 
 1 Formed for. * Ipswich. 
 
286 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, 
 With thy reUgious truth and modesty, 
 Now in his ashes honour : peace be with him ! 
 Patience, be near me still ; and set me lower : 
 I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, 
 Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
 I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating 
 On that celestial harmony I go to. 
 
 [Sad and solemn music. 
 Grif, She is asleep : good wench, let 's sit down 
 quiet, 
 For fear we wake her : softly, gentle Patience. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 MALICIOUS MEN. 
 
 Men that make 
 Envy and crooked malice nourishment 
 Dare bite the best. 
 
 A CHURCHMAN. 
 
 Love and meekness, lord. 
 Become a churchman better than ambition 
 Win straying souls with modesty again, 
 Cast none away. 
 
 INHUMANITY. 
 
 'T is a cruelty, 
 To load a falling man. 
 
King Henry Fill, 287 
 
 ARCHBISHOP CRANMER'S PROPHECY. 
 
 Let me speak, sir, 
 For heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter 
 Let none think flattery, for they '11 find 'em truth. 
 This royal infant — heaven still move about her ! — 
 Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
 Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, 
 Which time shall bring to ripeness : she shall be — 
 But few now living can behold that goodness — 
 A pattern to all princes living with her. 
 And all that shall succeed : Saba was never 
 More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue 
 Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces, 
 That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, 
 With all the virtues that attend the good, 
 Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse her. 
 Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her : 
 She shall be loved and fear'd : her own shall bless 
 
 her; 
 Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, 
 And hang their heads with sorrow : good grows with 
 
 her: 
 In her days every man shall eat in safety, 
 Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing 
 The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours ; 
 God shall be truly known ; and those about her 
 From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, 
 And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. 
 Nor shall this peace sleep with her : but as when 
 
288 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix. 
 Her ashes new create another heir, >, 
 
 As great in admiration as herself; 
 So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 
 When heaven shall call her from this cloud of dark- 
 ness. 
 Who from the sacred ashes of her honour 
 Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 
 And so stand fixM : peace, plenty, love, truth, terror. 
 That were the servants to this chosen infant, 
 Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him : 
 Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, 
 His honour and the greatness of his name 
 Shall be, and make new nations : he shall flourish, 
 And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 
 To all the plains about him : our children's children 
 Shall see this, and bless heaven. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I. 
 
THE BEAUTIES 
 
 SHAKSPEARE 
 
 REV. WILLIAM DODD, LL.D. 
 
 Revised, Corrected, and Enlarged 
 
 Volume II 
 
 NEW YORK: 46 East 14TH Street 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 i»AGE 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra 3 
 
 coriolanus 20 
 
 Cymbeline 36 
 
 Hamlet 56 
 
 Julius Caesar 91 
 
 King Lear '. . .116 
 
 Macbeth 137 
 
 Othello 160 
 
 Romeo and Juliet 180 
 
 TiMON OF Athens 204 
 
 Titus Andronicus 219 
 
 Troilus and Cressida 224 
 
 Index * . . 247 
 
 (iii) 
 
PART III. 
 
 TRAGEDIES, 
 
 Vo. II. — I. 
 
THE 
 
 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 TRAGEDIES. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 LOVE THE NOBLENESS OF LIFE. 
 
 Antony. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide 
 arch 
 Of the ranged 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 [Embracing. 
 And such a twain can do 't, in which I bind, 
 On pain of punishment, the world to weet ^ 
 We stand up peerless. 
 
 Cleopatra. ^ Excellent falsehood ! 
 
 Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? 
 
 ^Know. 
 
4 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 I '11 seem the fool I am not ; Antony 
 Will be himself. 
 
 AnL But stirr'd by Cleopatra. 
 
 Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours. 
 
 Antony's vices and virtues. 
 
 I must not think there are 
 
 Evils enow to darken all his goodness : 
 
 His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven, 
 
 More fiery by night's blackness ; hereditary, 
 
 Rather than purchased ; ' what he cannot change, 
 
 Than what he chooses. 
 
 CcBsar. 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 An- 
 tony 
 No way excuse his soils, when we do bear 
 So great weight in his lightness. 2 If he fill'd 
 His vacancy with his voluptuousness, 
 Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones. 
 Call on him ' for 't : but to confc^d ^ such time, 
 
 1 Procured by his own fault. * Levity. 
 
 » Visit him. * Consume. 
 
Antony and Cleopatra, 5 
 
 That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud 
 As his own state and ours, — 't is to be chid 
 As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge, 
 Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, 
 And so rebel to judgment. 
 
 Antony, 
 Leave thy lascivious wassails.^ When thou once 
 Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st 
 Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel 
 Did famine follow ; whom thou fought'st against. 
 Though daintily brought up, with patience more 
 Than savages could suffer : thou didst drink 
 The staled of horses, and the gilded puddle ^ 
 Which beasts would cough at : thy palate then did 
 
 deign 
 The roughest berry on the rudest hedge ; 
 Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, 
 The barks of trees thou browsed'st ; on the Alps 
 It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh. 
 Which some did die to look on : and all this — 
 It wounds thine honour that I speak it now — 
 Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek 
 So much as lank'd not. 
 
 Cleopatra's solicitude on the absence of 
 
 ANTONY. 
 
 O Charmian, 
 Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he ? 
 
 1 Feastings ; in the old copy it is vaissailes, i.e. vassals. 
 » Urine. ' Stagnant, slimy water. 
 
6 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Or does he walk ? or is he on his horse ? 
 
 O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony ! 
 
 Do bravely, horse ! for wot'st thou whom thou 
 
 movest ? 
 The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm 
 And burgonet * of men. He 's speaking now, 
 Or murmuring ' Where 's my serpent of old Nile? ' 
 For so he calls me : now I feed myself 
 With most delicious poison. Think on me, 
 That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black. 
 And wrinkled deep in time ? Broad-fronted Caesar, 
 When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
 A morsel for a monarch : and great Pompey 
 Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow ; 
 There would he anchor his aspect and die 
 With looking on his life. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. 
 
 We, ignorant of ourselves, 
 Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers 
 Deny us for our good ; so find we profit 
 By losing of our prayers. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA SAILING DOWN THE 
 CYDNUS. 
 
 The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, 
 BurnM on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; 
 
 » A helmet. 
 
Antony and Cleopatra. 7 
 
 Purple the sails, and so perfumed that 
 
 The winds were love-sick with them ; the oars were 
 
 silver, 
 Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 
 The water which they beat to follow faster, 
 As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, 
 It beggared all description : she did lie 
 In her pavilion — cloth-of-gold of tissue — 
 O'er-picturing that Venus where we see 
 The fancy outwork nature : on each side her 
 Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, 
 With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem 
 To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, 
 And what they undid did.* 
 
 Agrippa. O, rare for Antony ! 
 
 Enobarbiis. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
 So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes. 
 And made their bends adornings : at the helm 
 A seeming mermaid steers : the silken tackle 
 Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, 
 That yarely frame ^ the office. From the barge 
 A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
 Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
 Her people out upon her ; and Antony, 
 Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit alone, 
 Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, 
 Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too 
 And made a gap in nature. 
 
 1 Added to the warmth they were intended to diminish. 
 « Readily performed. 
 
8 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 CLEOPATRA'S INFINITE POWER IN PLEASING. 
 
 Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 
 
 Her infinite variety : other women 
 
 Cloy the appetites they feed : but she makes hungry 
 
 Where most she satisfies : for vilest things 
 
 Become themselves in her ; that the holy priests 
 
 Bless her when she is riggish.' 
 
 THE UNSETTLED HUMOURS OF LOVERS. 
 
 Cleopatra. Give me some music ; music, moody ' 
 food 
 Of us that trade in love. 
 
 Attendant. The music, ho! 
 
 Enter Mardian, the Eunuch. 
 Cleo. Let it alone ; let 's to billiards : 
 Come, Charmian. 
 
 Charmian. My arm is sore ; best play with Mar- 
 dian. 
 Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd 
 As with a woman. Come, you Ul play with me, sir ? 
 Mardian. As well as I can, madam. 
 Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though 't 
 come too short, 
 The actor may plead pardon. I '11 none now : 
 Give me mine angle ; we '11 to the river : there. 
 My music playing far off, I will betray 
 Tawny-finn'd fishes ; my bended hook shall pierce 
 
 ' Wanton. * Melancholy. 
 
Antony and Cleopatra, 9 
 
 Their slimy jaws ; and, as I draw them up, 
 I '11 think them every one an Antony, 
 And say ' Ah, ha ! you 're caught.' 
 
 Char. 'T was merry when 
 
 You wager'd on your angling ; when your diver 
 Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he 
 With fervency drew up. 
 
 Cleo. That time, — O times ! — 
 
 I laugh'd him out of patience ; and that night 
 I laugh'd him into patience : and next morn. 
 Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed ; 
 Then put my tires ^ and mantles on him, whilst 
 I wore his sword Philippan. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 AMBITION JEALOUS OF A TOO SUCCESSFUL FRIEND. 
 
 O Silius, Silius, 
 I have done enough ; a lower place, note well. 
 May make too great an act : for learn this, Silius ; 
 Better to leave undone, than by our deed acquire 
 Too high a fame when him we serve 's away. 
 
 WHAT OCTAVIA'S ENTRANCE SHOULD HAVE BEEN. 
 
 Why have you stol'n upon us thus ? You come not 
 Like Caesar's sister : the wife of Antony 
 Should have an army for an usher, and 
 The neighs of horse to tell of her approach 
 
 1 Head-dress. 
 
lo Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 Long ere she did appear ; the trees by the way 
 Should have borne men ; and expectation fainted, 
 Longing for what it had not ; nay, the dust 
 Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
 Raised by your populous troops : but you are come 
 A market-maid to Rome ; and have prevented 
 The ostentation^ of our love, which, left unshown. 
 Is often left unloved : we should have met you 
 By sea and land ; supplying every stage 
 With an augmented greeting. 
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 Women are not 
 In their best fortunes strong ; but want will perjure 
 The ne'er-touch'd vestal. 
 
 FORTUNE FORMS OUR JUDGMENTS. 
 
 I see men's judgments are 
 A parcel ^ of their fortunes ; and things outward 
 Do draw the inward quality after them. 
 To suffer all alike. 
 
 LOYALTY. 
 
 Mine honesty and I begin to square.' 
 
 The loyalty well held to fools does make 
 
 Our faith mere folly : yet he that can endure 
 
 To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord 
 
 Does conquer him that did his master conquer, 
 
 And earns a place i' the story. 
 
 1 Show, token. 2 Are of a piece with them. s Quarrel. 
 
Antony and Cleopatra. ii 
 
 WISDOM SUPERIOR TO FORTUNE. 
 
 Wisdom and fortune combating together, 
 if that the former dare but what it can, 
 No chance may shake it. 
 
 VICIOUS PERSONS INFATUATED BY HEAVEN. 
 
 But when we in our viciousness grow hard — 
 O misery on 't ! — the wise gods seel ^ our eyes ; 
 In our own filth drop our clear judgments ; make us 
 Adore our errors ; laugh at 's, while we strut 
 To our confusion. 
 
 FURY EXPELS FEAR. 
 
 Now he '11 outstare the lightning. To be furious, 
 Is to be frighted out of fear ; and in that mood 
 The dove will peck the estridge ; ^ and I see still, 
 A diminution in our captain's brain 
 Restores his heart : when valour preys on reason, 
 It eats the sword it fights with. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 A MASTER TAKING LEAVE OF HIS SERVANTS. 
 
 Tend me to-night ; 
 May be it is the period of your duty : 
 Haply ^ you shall not see me more ; or if, 
 A mangled shadow : perchance to-morrow 
 
 1 Close up. 2 Ostrich. 3 Perhaps. 
 
1 2 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 You '11 serve another master. I look on you 
 As 6ne that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, 
 I turn you not away ; but, like a master 
 Married to your good service, stay till death : 
 Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, 
 And the gods yield ^ you for 't ! 
 
 EARLY RISING THE WAY TO EMINENCE. 
 
 This morning, like the spirit of a youth 
 That means to be of note, begins betimes. 
 
 ANTONY TO CLEOPATRA, AT HIS RETURN WITH 
 VICTORY. 
 
 O thou day o' the world, 
 Chain mine arm'd neck ; leap thou, attire and all, 
 Through proof of harness ^ to my heart, and there 
 Ride on the pants triumphing ! 
 
 LOATHED LIFE. 
 
 O sovereign mistress of true melancholy. 
 
 The poisonous damp of night disponge ^ upon me, 
 
 That life, a very rebel to my will. 
 
 May hang no longer on me. 
 
 ANTONY'S DESPONDENCY. 
 
 O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more : 
 Fortune and Antony part here ; even here 
 
 1 Reward. 2 Armour of proof. 
 
 8 Discharge, as a sponge when squeezed discharges the moist- 
 ure it had imbibed. 
 
Antony and Cleopatra. 13 
 
 Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts 
 That spaniePd me at heels, to whom I gave 
 Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets 
 On blossoming Caesar ; and this pine is bark'd, 
 That overtoppM them all. 
 
 DEPARTING GREATNESS. 
 
 The soul and body rive ^ not more in parting 
 Than greatness going off. 
 
 ANTONY'S REFLECTIONS ON HIS FADED GLORY. 
 
 Sometime we see a cloud that 's dragonish ; 
 
 A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, 
 
 A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, 
 
 A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
 
 With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world, 
 
 And mock our eyes with air : thou hast seen these 
 
 signs ; 
 They are black vesper's pageants. 
 
 Eros. Ay, my lord, 
 
 Antony. That which is now a horse, even with 
 a thought 
 The rack 2 dislimns, and makes it indistinct. 
 As water is in water. 
 
 Eros. It does, my lord. 
 
 Ant. My good knave ^ Eros, now thy captain is 
 Even such a body : here I am Antony ; 
 Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. 
 
 1 Split. 2 The fleeting clouds. s Servant. 
 
14 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 I made these wars for Egypt ; and the queen, — 
 Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine ; 
 Which whilst it was mine had annexed unto 't 
 A million more, now lost, — she, Eros, has 
 Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-playM my glory 
 Unto an enemy's triumph. 
 Nay, weep not, gentle Eros ; there is left us 
 Ourselves to end ourselves. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA'S SUPPOSED DEATH. 
 
 Death of one person can be paid but once. 
 
 And that she has discharged : what thou wouldst do 
 
 Is done unto thy hand : the last she spake 
 
 Was ' Antony ! most noble Antony ! ' 
 
 Then in the midst a tearing groan did break 
 
 The name of Antony ; it was divided 
 
 Between her heart and lips : she rendered life, 
 
 Thy name so buried in her. 
 
 CLEOPATRA'S REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF 
 ANTONY. 
 
 Cleopatra. Noblest of men, woo't die? 
 Hast thou no care of me .'' shall I abide 
 In this dull world, which in thy absence is 
 No better than a sty? O, see, my women, 
 
 [Antony dies. 
 The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord ! 
 O, withered is the garland of the war. 
 The soldier's pole is fall'n : young boys and girls 
 Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, 
 
Antony and Cleopatra. 15 
 
 And there is nothing left remarkable 
 
 Beneath the visiting moon. [^Faints. 
 
 Charmian. O, quietness, lady ! 
 
 Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign. 
 
 Char. Lady ! 
 
 Iras. Madam ! 
 
 Char. O madam, madam, madam ! 
 
 Iras. Royal Egypt, 
 
 Empress ! 
 
 Char. Peace, peace, Iras ! 
 
 Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded 
 By such poor passion as the maid that milks 
 And does the meanest chares.^ It were for me 
 To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ; 
 To tell them that this world did equal theirs 
 Till they had stol'n our jewel. All 's but naught ; 
 Patience is sottish, and impatience does 
 Become a dog that 's mad : then is it sin 
 To rush into the secret house of death. 
 Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? 
 What, what ! good cheer ! Why, how now, Char- 
 mian ! 
 My noble girls ! Ah, women, women, look. 
 Our lamp is spent, it 's out ! Good sirs, take heart : 
 We '11 bury him ; and then, what 's brave, what 's 
 
 noble. 
 Let 's do it after the high Roman fashion, 
 And make death proud to take us. Come, away : 
 This case of that huge spirit now is cold. 
 
 1 Occasional work. The word is still used as chores in America. 
 
1 6 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 My desolation does begin to make 
 
 A better life. 'T is paltry to be Caesar ; 
 
 Not being Fortune, he 's but Fortune's knave,* 
 
 A minister of her will : and it is great 
 
 To do that thing that ends all other deeds ; 
 
 Which shackles accidents and bolts up change ; 
 
 Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug, 
 
 The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. 
 
 CLEOPATRA'S DESCRIPTION OF ANTONY. 
 
 Cleopatra. I dream'd there was an Emperor 
 Antony : 
 
 O, such another sleep, that I might see 
 
 But such another man ! 
 
 Dolabella. If it might please ye, — 
 
 Cleo. His face was as the heavens ; and therein 
 stuck 
 
 A sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted 
 
 The little O, the earth. 
 
 Dol. Most sovereign creature, — 
 
 Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean : his rear'd arm 
 
 Crested the world : his voice was propertied 
 
 As all the tun^d spheres, and that to friends ; 
 
 But when he meant to quail ^ and shake the orb, 
 
 He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, 
 
 1 Servant. * Crush. 
 
Antony and Cleopatra, 17 
 
 There was no winter in 't ; an autumn 't was 
 
 That grew the more by reaping : his delights 
 
 Were dolphin-like ; they show'd his back above 
 
 The element they lived in : in his livery 
 
 Walk'd crowns and crownets ; realms and islands 
 
 were 
 As plates ^ dropp'd from his pocket. 
 
 FIRM RESOLUTION. 
 
 What poor an instrument 
 May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. 
 My resolution 's placed, and I have nothing 
 Of woman in me : now from head to foot 
 I am marble-constant; now the fleeting^ moon 
 No planet is of mine. 
 
 Cleopatra's speech on applying the asp. 
 
 Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
 
 Immortal longings in me : now no more 
 
 The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip : 
 
 Yare, yare,^ good Iras ; quick. Methinks I hear 
 
 Antony call ; I see him rouse himself 
 
 To praise my noble act ; I hear him mock 
 
 The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men 
 
 To excuse their after wrath : husband, I come : 
 
 Now to that name my courage prove my title ! 
 
 I am fire and air ; my other elements 
 
 I give to baser life. So ; have you done? 
 
 1 Silver money. 2 Inconstant. 3 Make haste. 
 
m 
 
 1 8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
 Farewell, kind Charmian ; Iras, long farewell. 
 
 [Kisses them. lra.s falls and dies. 
 Have I the aspic in my lips ? Dost fall ? 
 If thou and nature can so gently part. 
 The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, 
 Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still? 
 If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world 
 It is not worth leave-taking. 
 
 Charmiafi. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain ; that 
 I may say, 
 The gods themselves do weep ! 
 
 Cleopatra. This proves me base : 
 
 If she first meet the curled Antony, 
 He '11 make demand of her, and spend that kiss 
 Which is my heaven to have. 
 Come, thou mortal wretch, 
 
 [To an asp which she applies to her breast. 
 With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate 
 Of life at once untie : poor venomous fool, 
 Be angry, and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak, 
 That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass 
 Unpolicied.^ 
 
 Char. O eastern star ! 
 
 Cleo. Peace, peace ! 
 
 Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
 That sucks the nurse asleep? 
 
 Char. O, break ! O, break ! 
 
 Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, — 
 
 1 Unpolitic, to leave me to myself. 
 
Antony and Cleopatra, 19 
 
 O Antony ! — Nay, I will take thee too : 
 
 [Applying another asp to her arm. 
 What should I stay — [Dies. 
 
 Char. In this vile world ? So, fare thee well. 
 Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies 
 A lass unparallePd. 
 
CORIOLANUS. 
 ACT I. 
 
 A MOB. 
 
 What would you have, you curs, 
 That like nor peace nor war ? the one affrights you, 
 The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, 
 Where he should find you lions, finds you hares ; 
 Where foxes, geese : you are no surer, no. 
 Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, 
 Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is 
 To make him worthy whose offence subdues him 
 And curse that justice did it. Who deserves great- 
 ness 
 Deserves your hate ; and your affections are 
 A sick man's appetite, who desires most that 
 Which would increase his evil. He that depends 
 Upon your favours swims with fins of lead 
 And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust 
 
 ye? 
 With every minute you do change a mind, 
 And call him noble that was now your hate. 
 Him vile that was your garland. 
 
Coriolanus, 21 
 
 CORIOLANUS WARRING. 
 
 Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum, 
 See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair, 
 As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him : 
 Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus : 
 ' Come on, you cowards ! you were got in fear, 
 Though you were born in Rome' : His bloody brow 
 With his maiPd hand then wiping, forth he goes, 
 Like to a harvest-man that 's task'd to mow 
 Or all or lose his hire. 
 
 Virgilia. His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no 
 blood ! 
 
 Volutnnia. Away, you fool ! it more becomes a 
 man 
 Than gilt his trophy : the breasts of Hecuba, 
 When she did suckle Hector^ look'd not lovelier 
 Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood 
 At Grecian sword, contemning. 
 
 DOING OUR DUTY MERITS NOT PRAISE. 
 
 Pray now, no more : my mother, 
 Who has a charter * to extol her blood. 
 When she does praise me grieves me. I have done 
 As you have done ; that 's what I can ; induced 
 As you have been ; that 's for my country : 
 He that has but effected his good will 
 Hath overta'en mine act. 
 
 1 Privilege. 
 
22 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 AUFIDIUS'S HATRED TO CORIOLANUS. 
 
 Nor sleep nor sanctuary, 
 Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, 
 The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, 
 Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up 
 Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst 
 My hate to Marcius : where I find him, were it 
 At home, upon my brother's guard,' even there, 
 Against the hospitable canon, would I 
 Wash my fierce hand in 's heart. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 POPULARITY. 
 
 All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights 
 Are spectacled to see him : your prattling nurse 
 Into a rapture ^ lets her baby cry 
 While she chats him : the kitchen malkin ^ pins 
 Her richest lockram^ 'bout her reechy^ neck, 
 Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, 
 
 windows, 
 Are smother'd up, leads filPd, and ridges horsed 
 With variable complexions, all agreeing 
 In earnestness to see him: seld-shown^ flamens'' 
 Do press among the popular throngs and puff 
 To win a vulgar station : ^ our veil'd dames 
 
 1 My brother posted to protect him. * pit. 
 
 8 Maid. * Best linen. 
 
 6 Soiled with sweat and smoke. ^ Seldom shown. 
 
 'Priests. « Common staning-place. 
 
Coriolanu$. 23 
 
 Commit the war of white and damask in 
 Their nicely-gawded ^ cheeks to the wanton spoil 
 Of Phoebus' burning kisses : such a pother 
 As if that whatsoever god who leads him 
 Were slily crept into his human powers 
 And gave him graceful posture. 
 
 COMINIUS'S PRAISE OF CORIOLANUS IN THE SENATE. 
 
 I shall lack voice : the deeds of Coriolanus 
 
 Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held 
 
 That valour is the chiefest virtue, and 
 
 Most dignifies the haver : '^ if it be, 
 
 The man I speak of cannot in the world 
 
 Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, 
 
 When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought 
 
 Beyond the mark of others : our then dictator. 
 
 Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, 
 
 When with his Amazonian chin ^ he drove 
 
 The bristled '* lips before him : he bestrid 
 
 An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view 
 
 Slew three opposers : Tarquin's self he met. 
 
 And struck him on his knee : in that day's feats, 
 
 When he might act the woman in the scene, ^ 
 
 He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed ^ 
 
 Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age 
 
 Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea, 
 
 And in the brunt of seventeen battles since 
 
 1 Adorned. 2 possessor. 
 
 8 Without a beard. * Bearded. 
 
 5 Smooth-faced enough to act a woman's part. Reward. 
 
24 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 He lurched ' all swords of the garland. For this last, 
 
 Before and in Corioli, let me say, 
 
 I cannot speak him home : he stopped the fliers ; 
 
 And by his rare example made the coward 
 
 Turn terror into sport : as weeds before 
 
 A vessel under sail, so men obeyed 
 
 And fell below his stem : his sword, death's stami>, 
 
 Where it did mark, it took ; from face to foot 
 
 He was a thing of blood, whose every motion 2 
 
 Was timed ^ with dying cries : alone he entered 
 
 The mortal gate of the city, which he painted 
 
 With shunless destiny ; aidless came off, 
 
 And with a sudden re-enforcement struck 
 
 Corioli like a planet : now all 's his : 
 
 When, by and by, the din of war 'gan pierce 
 
 His ready sense ; then straight his doubled spirit 
 
 Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate,* 
 
 And to the battle came he ; where he did 
 
 Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 
 
 'T were a perpetual spoil : and till we calPd 
 
 Both field and city ours, he never stood 
 
 To ease his breast with panting. 
 
 ACT HI. 
 
 THE MISCHIEF OF ANARCHY. 
 
 My soul aches 
 To know, when two authorities are up, 
 
 »Won. » stroke. 
 
 » Followed. * Wearied. 
 
Coriolanus. 25 
 
 Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
 May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take 
 The one by the other. 
 
 CHARACTER OF CORIOLANUS. 
 
 His nature is too noble for the world : 
 
 He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
 
 Or Jove for 's power to thunder. His heart 's his 
 
 mouth : 
 What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent ; 
 And, being angry, does forget that ever 
 He heard the name of death. 
 
 HONOUR AND POLICY. 
 
 I have heard you say, 
 Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, 
 r 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. 
 
 THE METHOD TO GAIN POPULAR FAVOUR. 
 
 Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand ; 
 
 And thus far having stretch'd it — here be with 
 
 them — 
 Thy knee bussing the stones — for in such business 
 Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant 
 More learned than the ears — waving thy head, 
 Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart. 
 Now humble as the ripest mulberry 
 
26 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 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. 
 
 CORIOLANUS'S ABHORRENCE OF FLATTERY. 
 
 Well, I must do 't : 
 Away, my disposition, and possess me 
 Some harlot's spirit ! My throat of war be turned, 
 Which quired with my drum, into a pipe 
 Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice 
 That babies lulls asleep ! The smiles of knaves 
 Tent ^ in my cheeks and schoolboys' tears take up 
 The glasses of my sight ! A beggar's tongue 
 Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees^ 
 Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his 
 That hath received an alms ! I will not do 't, 
 Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth 
 And by my body's action teach my mind 
 A most inherent baseness. 
 
 VOLUMNIA'S RESOLUTION ON THE PRIDE OF 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 At thy choice, then : 
 To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour 
 
 1 Dwell. 
 
Coriolanus, 27 
 
 Than thou of them. Come all to ruin ; let 
 
 Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear 
 
 Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death 
 
 With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. 
 
 Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me, 
 
 But owe ^ thy pride thyself. 
 
 CORIOLANUS'S DETESTATION OF THE VULGAR. 
 
 You common cry ^ of -curs ! whose breath I hate 
 As reek ^ o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
 As the dead carcasses of unburied men 
 That do corrupt my air, I banish you ; 
 And here remain with your uncertainty ! 
 Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts ! 
 Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, 
 Fan you into despair ! Have the power still 
 To banish your defenders ; till at length 
 Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels, 
 Making not reservation of yourselves, 
 Still your own foes, deliver you as most 
 Abated * captives to some nation 
 That won you without blows ! 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 PRECEPTS AGAINST ILL FORTUNE. 
 
 You were used 
 To say extremity was the trier of spirits ; 
 
 1 Own. 2 pax:k. » Vapour. * Subdued. 
 
2 8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That common chances common men could bear ; 
 That when the sea was calm all boats alike 
 ShowM mastership in floating ; fortune's blows, 
 When most struck home, being gentle wounded, 
 
 craves 
 A noble cunning : you were used to load me 
 With precepts that would make invincible 
 The heart that conn'd them. 
 
 ON COMMON FRIENDSHIPS. 
 
 O world, thy slippery turns ! Friends now fast sworn, 
 Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, 
 Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, 
 Are still together, who twin, as 't were, in love 
 Unseparable, shall within this hour, 
 On a dissension of a doit,i break out 
 To bitterest enmity : so, fellest foes. 
 Whose passions and whose plots have broke their 
 
 sleep 
 To take the one the other, by some chance. 
 Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends 
 And interjoin their issues. 
 
 MAGNANIMOUS FOES. 
 
 If, Tullus, 
 Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not 
 Think me for the man I am, necessity 
 Commands me name myself. 
 
 * A small coin. 
 
Coriolanus. 29 
 
 Aufidius. What is thy name? 
 
 Coriolanus. A name unmusical to the Volscians' 
 ears, 
 And harsh in sound to thine. 
 
 Auf. Say, what 's thy name ? 
 
 Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face 
 Bears a command in 't ; though thy tackle 's torn, 
 Thou show'st a noble vessel : what 's thy name ? 
 
 Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown : know'st thou 
 me yet ? 
 
 Auf. I know thee not : thy name ? 
 
 Cor. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done 
 To thee particularly and to all the Volsces 
 Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may 
 My surname, Coriolanus : the painful service, 
 The extreme dangers and the drops of blood 
 Shed for my thankless country are requited 
 But with that surname ; a good memory, 
 And witness of the malice and displeasure 
 Which thou shouldst bear me : only that name 
 
 remains ; 
 The cruelty and envy of the people, 
 Permitted by our dastard nobles, who 
 Have all forsook me, hath devoured the rest ; 
 And suffered me by the voice of slaves to be 
 Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity 
 Hath brought me to thy hearth ; not out of hope — 
 Mistake me not — to save my life, for if 
 I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world 
 I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite, 
 To be full quit of those my banishers, 
 
so Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast 
 
 A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge 
 
 Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims 
 
 Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee 
 
 straight. 
 And make my misery serve thy turn : so use it 
 That my revengeful services may prove 
 As benefits to thee, for I will fight 
 Against my canker'd country with the spleen 
 Of all the under fiends. But if so be 
 Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes 
 Thou 'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am 
 Longer to live most weary, and present 
 My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice ; 
 Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, 
 Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate. 
 Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, 
 And cannot live but to thy shame, unless 
 It be to do thee service. 
 
 All/. O Marcius, Marcius ! 
 
 Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my 
 
 heart 
 A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter 
 Should from yond cloud speak divine things. 
 And say ♦ 'T is true,' I 'Id not believe them more 
 Than thee, all noble Marcius. 
 
 MARTIAL FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Let me twine 
 Mine arms about that body, where against 
 
Coriolanus. 31 
 
 My grained ash an hundred times hath broke, 
 
 And scarr'd the moon with spHnters : here I clip 
 
 The anvil of my sword, and do contest 
 
 As hotly and as nobly with thy love 
 
 As ever in ambitious strength I did 
 
 Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, 
 
 I loved the maid I married ; never man 
 
 Sigh'd truer breath ; but that I see thee here. 
 
 Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart 
 
 Than when I first my wedded mistress saw 
 
 Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars ! I tell thee, 
 
 We have a power on foot ; and I had purpose 
 
 Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, 
 
 Or lose mine arm for 't : thou hast beat me out 
 
 Twelve several times, and I have nightly since 
 
 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. Worthy Marcius, 
 
 Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that 
 
 Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all 
 
 From twelve to seventy, and pouring war 
 
 Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, 
 
 Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in, 
 
 And take our friendly senators by the hands ; 
 
 Who now are here, taking their leaves of me. 
 
 Who am prepared against your territories. 
 
 Though not for Rome itself. 
 
 Coriolanus. You bless me, gods ! 
 
 Aufidius, Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou 
 wilt have 
 
32 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 The leading of thine own revenges, take 
 The one half of my commission ; and set down — 
 As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st 
 Thy country's strength and weakness, — thine own 
 
 ways ; 
 Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, 
 Or rudely visit them in parts remote. 
 To fright them, ere destroy. But come in : 
 Let me commend thee first to those that shall 
 Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes ! 
 And more a friend than e'er an enemy ; 
 Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand : most 
 
 welcome ! 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 THE SEASON OF SOLICITATION. 
 
 He was not taken well ; he had not dined : 
 
 The veins unfilPd, our blood is cold, and then 
 
 We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
 
 To give or to forgive ; but when we have stuflf'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 '11 watch 
 
 him 
 Till he be dieted to my request. 
 
 OBSTINATE^ RESOLUTION. 
 
 My wife comes foremost ; then the honour'd mould 
 Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand 
 
Coriolanus. 33 
 
 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 curtesy 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 suppHcation nod : and my young boy 
 Hath an aspect of intercession, which 
 Great nature cries ' Deny not.' Let the Volsces 
 Plough Rome, and harrow Italy : I '11 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, 
 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 
 L.eave unsaluted : sink, my knee, i' the earth ; 
 
 [Kneels 
 
 1 A young goose, 2 Juno. 
 
34 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Of thy deep duty more impression show 
 Than that of common sons. 
 
 CHASTITY. 
 
 The noble sister of Publicola, 
 The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle 
 That 's curdled by the frost from j)urest 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 unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars 
 Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw,* 
 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 com- 
 forts, 
 Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sor- 
 row ; 
 Making the mother, wife and child to see 
 
 1 Gust, storm. 
 
Coriolanus, 35 
 
 The son, the husband and the father tearing 
 His country's bowels out. And to poor we 
 Thine enmity 's most capital : thou barr'st us 
 Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort 
 That all but we enjoy. 
 
 We must find 
 An evident calamity, though we had 
 Our wish, which side should win ; for either thou 
 Must, as a foreign recreant, be led 
 With manacles thorough our streets, or else 
 Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin. 
 And bear the palm for having bravely shed 
 Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, 
 I purpose not to wait on fortune till 
 These wars determine : Mf I cannot persuade thee 
 Rather to show a noble grace to both parts 
 Than 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. 
 
 1 Conclude. 
 
CYMBELINE 
 
 ACT 1. 
 
 PARTING LOVERS. 
 
 Imogen. Thou shouldst have made him 
 As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
 To after-eye him. 
 
 Pisanio. Madam, so I did. 
 
 lino. I would have broke mine eye-strings; 
 crack'd them, but 
 To look upon him, till the diminution 
 Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle, 
 Nay, followed him, till he had melted from 
 The smallness of a gnat to air, and then 
 Have turned mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, 
 When shall we hear from him ? 
 
 Pis. Be assured, madam, 
 
 With his next vantage.' 
 
 Into. 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 charged him, 
 
 1 Opportunity. 
 
Cymbeline. 37 
 
 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.^ 
 
 lachimo. Had I this cheek 
 
 To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, whose touch, 
 Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul 
 To the oath of loyalty ; this object, which 
 Takes prisoner 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 by-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. 
 
 1 Meet me with reciprocal prayer. 
 
 2 What you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold. 
 
38 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 IMOGEN'S CHAMBER. 
 
 Scene. A Bedchamber ; in one cor tier of it a Trunk. 
 Imogen in Bed, reading; a Lady attending. 
 
 I?nogen. 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 prythee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly. 
 
 \_Exit Lady. 
 To your protection I commend me, gods. 
 From fairies and the tempters of the night 
 Guard me, beseech ye 
 
 [Sleeps. lachimo comes fro?n the Trunk. 
 
 lachimo. 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 becomest 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 ! 'T is her breathing that 
 Perfumes the chamber thus : the flame o' the taper 
 Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, 
 To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 
 Under these windows, white and azure laced 
 
 1 It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with rushes. 
 
Cymhelim. 39 
 
 With blue of heaven's own tinct.^ But my design, 
 
 To note the chamber : I will write all down : 
 
 Such and such pictures ; there the window ; such 
 
 The adornment of her bed ; the arras \^ figures, 
 
 Why, such and such ; and the contents o' the story. 
 
 Ah, but some natural notes about her body. 
 
 Above ten thousand meaner movables 
 
 Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. 
 
 O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her ! 
 
 And be her sense but as a monument. 
 
 Thus in a chapel lying ! Come off, come off: 
 
 [Taking off her Bracelet. 
 As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard ! 
 'T is mine ; and this will witness outwardly. 
 As strongly as the conscience does within, 
 To the madding of her lord. On her left breast 
 A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
 r the bottom of a cowslip : here 's a voucher, 
 Stronger than ever law could make : this secret 
 Will force him think I have picked the lock and ta'en 
 The treasure of her honour. No more. To what 
 
 end? 
 Why should I write this down, that 's riveted, 
 Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading 
 
 late 
 The tale of Tereus ; here the leaf 's turned down 
 Where Philomel gave up. I have enough : 
 To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
 Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning 
 
 1 i.e. The white skin laced with blue veins. 
 
 2 Tapestry. 
 
40 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 May bare the raven's eye ! I lodge in fear ; 
 Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. 
 
 GOLD. 
 
 'T is gold 
 Which buys admittance ; oft it doth ; yea, and makes 
 Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
 Their deer to the stand o' the stealer ; and 't is gold 
 Which makes the tn.ie man kill'd and saves the thief; 
 Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man : 
 
 what 
 Can it not do and undo? 
 
 A SATIRE ON WOMEN. 
 
 Is there no way for men to be but women 
 
 Must be half- workers ? We are all bastards ; 
 
 And that most venerable man which I 
 
 Did call my father, was I know not where 
 
 When I was stamp'd ; some coiner with his tools 
 
 Made me a counterfeit : yet my mother seem'd 
 
 The Dian of that time : so doth my wife 
 
 The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance ! 
 
 Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained 
 
 And pray'd me oft forbearance ; did it with 
 
 A pudency ' so rosy the sweet view on 't 
 
 Might well have warm'd old Saturn ; that I thought 
 
 her 
 As chaste as unsunn'd snow. 
 
 * Modesty, 
 
Cymheline. 41 
 
 Could I find out 
 The woman's part in me ! For there 's no motion 
 That tends to vice in man, but I affirm 
 It is the woman's part : be it lying, note it, 
 The woman's ; flattering, hers ; deceiving, hers ; 
 Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers ; revenges, hers ; 
 Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, 
 Nice longing, slanders, mutability, 
 All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows. 
 Why, hers, in part or all ; but rather, all ; 
 For even to vice 
 
 They are not constant, but are changing still 
 One vice, but qf a minute old, for one 
 Not half so old as that. I '11 write against them. 
 Detest them, curse them : yet 't is greater skill 
 In a true hate, to pray they have their will : 
 The very devils cannot plague them better. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 IMPATIENCE OF A WIFE TO MEET HER HUSBAND. 
 
 O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio.^ 
 He is at Milford-Haven : read, and tell me 
 How far 't is thither. If one of mean aifairs 
 May plod it in a week, why may not I 
 Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio, — 
 Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord ; who long'st, — 
 O, let me bate, — but not like me — yet long'st, 
 But in a fainter kind : — O, not like me ; 
 
42 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 For mine 's beyond beyond — say, and speak thick ; • 
 Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, 
 To the smothering of the sense — how far it is 
 To this same blessed Milford : and by the way 
 Tell me how Wales was made so happy as 
 To inherit such a haven : but first of all. 
 How we may steal from hence, and for the gap 
 That we shall make in time, from our hence-going 
 And our return, to excuse : but first, how get hence : 
 Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? 
 We '11 talk of that hereafter. Pry thee, speak, 
 How many score of miles may we well ride 
 'Twixt hour and hour? 
 
 Pisanio. One score 'twixt sun and sun, 
 
 Madam, 's enough for you : \Aside\ and too much 
 too. 
 
 Imogen. Why, one that rode to 's execution, man. 
 Could never go so slow : I have heard of riding 
 
 wagers, 
 Where horses have been nimbler than the sands 
 That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery : 
 Go bid my woman feign a sickness ; say 
 She '11 home to her father : and provide me presently 
 A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit 
 A franklin's '^ housewife. 
 
 Pis. Madam, you 're best consider. 
 
 Imo. I see before me, man: nor here, nor here. 
 Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them, 
 That I cannot look through. Away, I prythee ; 
 
 1 Crowd one word on another, !is fast as possible. 
 « A freeholder. 
 
Cymheline. 43 
 
 Do as I bid thee : there 's no more to say ; 
 Accessible is none but Milford way. 
 
 Scene. Wales. A mountainous Country, with a 
 Cave. 
 
 Belarius. A goodly day not to keep house, with 
 such 
 Whose roof 's as low as ours ! Stoop, boys ; this gate 
 Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you 
 To a morning's holy office : the gates of monarchs 
 Are arch'd so high that giants may jet ^ through 
 And keep their impious turbans on, without 
 Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven ! 
 We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
 As prouder livers do. 
 
 Guiderius. Hail, heaven ! 
 
 Arviragus . Hail, heaven ! 
 
 Bel. Now for our mountain sport : up to yond hill ; 
 Your legs are young ; I '11 tread these flats. Consider, 
 When you above perceive me like a crow. 
 That it is place which lessens and sets off: 
 And you may then revolve what tales I have told you 
 Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war : 
 This service is not service, so being done, 
 But being so allow'd : to apprehend thus, 
 Draws us a profit from all things we see ; 
 And often, to our comfort, shall we find 
 The sharded ^ beetle in a safer hold 
 Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life 
 Is nobler than attending for a check, 
 
 1 Strut, walk proudly. * Scaly -winged. 
 
44 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Richer than doing nothing for a bauble, 
 Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk : 
 Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine, 
 Yet keeps his book uncrossed: no life to ours.^ 
 
 Gui. Out of your proof you speak : we, poor 
 unfledged. 
 Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know 
 
 not 
 What air's from home. Haply this life is best, 
 If quiet life be best ; sweeter to you 
 That have a sharper known ; well corresponding 
 With your stiff age : but unto us it is 
 A cell of ignorance ; travelling a-bed ; 
 A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
 To stride a limit. ^ 
 
 Arv. What should we speak of 
 When we are old as you? when we shall hear 
 The rain and wind beat dark December, how, 
 In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
 The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing; 
 We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey. 
 Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat ; 
 Our valour is to chase what flies ; our cage 
 We make a quire, as doth the prisoned bird, 
 And sing our bondage freely. 
 
 Bel. How you speak ! 
 
 Did you but know the city's usuries 
 And felt them knowingly ; the art o' the court. 
 As hard to leave as keep ; whose top to climb 
 Is certain falling, or so slippery that 
 
 ^ i.t. Compared with ours. * To overpass his bound.. 
 
Cymbeline. 45 
 
 The fear 's as bad as falling ; the toil o' the war, 
 
 A pain that only seems to seek out danger 
 
 r the name of fame and honour; which dies i' the 
 
 search, 
 And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph 
 As record of fair act ; nay, many times, 
 Doth ill deserve by doing well ; what 's worse. 
 Must courtesy at the censure : — O boys, this story 
 The world may read in me : my body 's marked 
 With Roman swords, and my report was once 
 First with the best of note : Cymbeline loved me, 
 And when a soldier was the theme, my name 
 Was not far off: then was I as a tree 
 Whose boughs did bend with fruit : but in one 
 
 night, 
 A storm or robbery, call it what you will, 
 Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves. 
 And left me bare to weather. 
 
 Gtd. Uncertain favour ! 
 
 Bel. My fault being nothing — as I have told 
 you oft — 
 But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd 
 Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline 
 I was confederate with the Romans : so 
 Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years 
 This rock and these demesnes have been my world ; 
 Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid 
 More pious debts to heaven than in all 
 The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains ! 
 This is not hunters' language : he that strikes 
 1 he venison first shall be the lord o' the feast ; 
 
46 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 To him the other two shall minister ; 
 And we will fear no poison, which attends 
 In place of greater state. 
 
 THE FORCE OF NATURE. 
 
 How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature ! 
 These boys know little they are sons to the king; 
 Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 
 They think they are mine ; and though train'd up 
 
 thus meanly 
 V the cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit 
 The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them 
 In simple and low things to prince it much 
 Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, 
 The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who 
 The king his father call'd Guiderius, — Jove ! 
 When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell 
 The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out 
 Into my story : say ' Thus mine enemy fell, 
 And thus I set my foot on 's neck ; ' even then 
 The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats. 
 Strains his young nerves and puts himself in posture 
 That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, 
 Once Arviragus, in as like a figure. 
 Strikes life into my speech and shows much more 
 His own conceiving. 
 
 SLANDER. 
 
 No, 't is slander, 
 Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue 
 
Cymheline, 47 
 
 Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath 
 Rides on the posting winds and doth belie 
 All corners of the world : kings, queens and states, 
 Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave 
 This viperous slander enters. 
 
 A wife's innocency. 
 
 False to his bed ! What is it to be false ? 
 
 To lie in watch there and to think on him ? 
 
 To weep Hwixt clock and clock? if sleep charge 
 
 nature. 
 To break it with a fearful dream of him 
 And cry myself awake ? that 's false to 's bed ! 
 
 WOMEN IN man's APPAREL. 
 
 You must forget to be a woman ; change 
 Command into obedience : fear and niceness — 
 The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, 
 Woman its pretty self — into a waggish courage; 
 Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and 
 As quarrelous as the weasel ; nay, you must 
 Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, 
 Exposing it — but, O, the harder heart! 
 Alack, no remedy ! — to the greedy touch 
 Of common-kissing Titan, ^ and forget 
 Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein 
 You made great Juno angry. 
 
 1 The sun. 
 
4^ Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Scene. Before the Cave of Belarius. 
 
 Imogen. I see a man's life is a tedious one : 
 I have tired myself, and for two nights together 
 Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, 
 But that my resolution helps me. Milford, 
 When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee. 
 Thou wast within a ken : O Jove ! I think 
 Foundations fly the wretched ; such, I mean. 
 Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told 
 
 me 
 I could not miss my way : will poor folks lie, 
 That have afflictions on them, knowing 't is 
 A punishment or trial ? Yes ; no wonder, 
 When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness 
 Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood 
 Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord ! 
 Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think on thee, 
 My hunger 's gone ; but even before, I was 
 At point to sink for food. But what is this? 
 Here is a path to 't : 't is some savage hold : 
 I were best not call ; I dare not call : yet famine, 
 Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. 
 Plenty and peace breeds cowards : hardness ever 
 Of hardiness is mother. 
 
 LABOUR. 
 
 Weariness 
 Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth 
 Finds the down pillow hard. 
 
Cymbeline, 49 
 
 HARMLESS INNOCENCE. 
 
 Imogen. Good masters, harm me not : 
 Before I enter'd here, I called ; and thought 
 To have begg'd or bought what I have took : good 
 
 troth, 
 I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had 
 
 found 
 Gold strew'd T the floor. Here 's money for my 
 
 meat : 
 I would have left it on the board so soon 
 As I had made my meal, and parted 
 With prayers for the provider. 
 
 Guiderius. Money, youth? 
 
 Arviragiis. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt { 
 As 't is no better reckoned, but of those 
 Who worship dirty gods. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 BRAGGART. 
 
 To who ? to thee ? What art thou ? Have not I 
 An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? 
 Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not 
 My dagger in my mouth. 
 
 FOOL-HARDINESS. 
 
 Being scarce made up, 
 I mean, to man, he had not apprehension 
 
50 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Of roaring terrors ; for the effect of judgment 
 Is oft the cause of fear. 
 
 INBORN ROYALTY. 
 
 O thou goddess. 
 Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st 
 In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle 
 As zephyrs blowing below the violet, 
 Not wagging his sweet head ; and yet as rough. 
 Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind, 
 That by the top doth take the mountain pine. 
 And make him stoop to the vale. 'T is wonder 
 That an invisible instinct should frame them 
 To royalty unlearned, honour untaught, 
 Civility not seen from other, valour 
 That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
 As if it had been sow'd. 
 
 IMOGEN SUPPOSED DEAD. 
 
 Belarius. Look, here he comes, 
 
 And brings the dire occasion in his arms 
 Of what we blame him for ! 
 
 Enter Arviragus, with Imogen, as dead, bearing het 
 in his arms. 
 Arviragus. The bird is dead 
 
 That we have made so much on. I had rather 
 Have skipped from sixteen years of age to sixty, 
 To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch, 
 Than have seen this. 
 
Cymbeline, 51 
 
 Guiderius. O sweetest, fairest lily ! 
 
 My brother wears thee not the one half so well 
 As when thou grew'st thyself. 
 
 Bel. O melancholy ! 
 
 Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find 
 The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare ' 
 Might easiHest harbour in ? Thou blessed thing ! 
 Jove knows what man thou mightst have made ; but I, 
 Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy. 
 How found you him? 
 
 Arv. Stark, ^ as you see : 
 
 Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, 
 Not as death's dart, being laughed at : his right 
 
 cheek 
 Reposing on a cushion. 
 
 Gtii. Where? 
 
 Arv. O' the floor ; 
 
 His arms thus leagued : I thought he slept, and put 
 My clouted brogues^ from off my feet, whose rude- 
 ness 
 Answer'd my steps too loud. 
 
 Qui. Why, he but sleeps : 
 
 If he be gone, he Ul make his grave a bed ; 
 With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
 And worms will not come to thee. 
 
 Arv. With fairest flowers 
 
 Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, 
 I '11 sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack 
 The flower that 's like thy face, pale primrose, nor 
 
 1 A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel. 
 
 « Stiff. 8 Shoes plated with iron. 
 
52 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 The azured harebell, nke thy veins, no, nor 
 The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
 Out-sweeten'd not thy breath : the ruddock i would , 
 With charitable bill, — O bill, sore-shaming 
 Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie 
 Without a monument ! — bring thee all this ; 
 Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, 
 To winter-ground ^ thy corse. 
 
 Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less ; for 
 Cloten 
 Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys ; 
 And though he came our enemy, remember 
 He was paid ^ for that : though mean and mighty, 
 
 rotting 
 Together, have one dust, yet reverence, 
 That angel of the world, doth make distinction 
 Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely; 
 And though you took his life, as being our foe 
 Yet bury him as a prince. 
 
 Guz. Pray you, fetch him hither. 
 
 Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', 
 When neither are alive. 
 
 FUNERAL DIRGE. 
 
 Guiderius. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 
 Nor the furious winter's rages ; 
 Thou thy worldly task hast done. 
 
 Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : 
 
 iThe red-breast. 
 
 •Probably a corrupt reading for vjither round thy corse. 
 
 > Punished. 
 
Cymbeline, 53 
 
 Golden lads and girls all must, 
 
 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 
 
 Arviragus. Fear no more the frown o' the great ; 
 
 Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; 
 Care no more to clothe and eat ; 
 
 To thee the reed is as the oak : 
 The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
 All follow this, and come to dust. . 
 
 Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, 
 Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; 
 Gui. Fear not slander, censure * rash ; 
 Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan : 
 Both. All lovers young, all lovers must 
 
 Consign ^ to thee, and come to dust. 
 
 Gui. No exorciser harm thee ! 
 Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee ! 
 Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee ! 
 Arv. Nothing ill come near thee ! 
 Both. Quiet consummation have ; 
 And renowned be thy grave ! 
 
 IMOGEN, AWAKING. 
 
 Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven ; which is the way? — 
 I thank you. — By yond bush ? — Pray, how far 
 
 thither? 
 'Ods pittikins ! ^ can it be six mile yet ? — 
 
 1 T"dg-ment. 2 Seal the same contract, 
 
 3 This diminutive adjuration is derived from God 's my piiy. 
 
54 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 I have gone all night. 'Faith, I Ul lie down and sleep. 
 But, soft ! no bedfellow ! — O gods and goddesses ! 
 
 \Seeing the body of Cloten. 
 These flowers are like the pleasures of the world ; 
 This bloody man, the care on 't. I hope I dream ; 
 For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, 
 And cook to honest creatures : but 't is not so ; 
 'T was but a bolt ^ of nothing, shot at nothing. 
 Which the brain makes of fumes : our very eyes 
 Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, 
 I tremble still with fear : but if there be 
 Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
 As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it ! 
 The dream 's here still : even when I wake, it is 
 Without me, as within me ; not imagined, felt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 A ROUTED ARMY. 
 
 No blame be to you, sir ; for all was lost, 
 But that the heavens fought : the king himself 
 Of his wings destitute, the army broken. 
 And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying 
 Through a strait lane ; the enemy full-hearted, 
 Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work 
 More plentiful than tools to do 't, struck down 
 Some mortally, some slightly touched, some falling 
 
 'An arrow. 
 
Cymheline. 55 
 
 Merely through fear ; that the strait pass was damm'd ^ 
 With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living 
 To die with lengthen'd shame. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 I, in mine own woe charm'd, 
 Could not find death where I did hear him groan, 
 Nor feel him where he struck : being an ugly monster, 
 'T is strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, 
 Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we 
 That draw his knives i' the war. 
 
 1 Blocked up. 
 
HAMLET. 
 ACT I. 
 
 PRODIGIES. 
 
 In the most high and palmy ' state of Rome, 
 A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, 
 The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead 
 Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets : 
 As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, 
 Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star ^ 
 Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands 
 Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. 
 
 GHOSTS VANISH AT THE CROWING OF A COCK. 
 
 Bernardo. It was about to speak, when the cock 
 crew. 
 
 Horatio. And then it started like a guilty thing 
 Upon a fearful summons. I have heard. 
 The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, 
 Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat 
 Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning, 
 Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 
 The extravagant and erring^ spirit hies 
 
 1 Victorious. 2 The moon. 8 Wandering. 
 
Hamlet, 57 
 
 To his confine : and of the truth herein 
 This present object made probation.^ 
 
 THE REVERENCE PAID TO CHRISTMAS TIME. 
 
 It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
 Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes 
 Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, 
 The bird of dawning singeth all night long : 
 And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; 
 The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, 
 No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 
 So hallo w'd and so gracious is the time. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad. 
 Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. 
 
 REAL GRIEF. 
 
 Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not ' seems.' 
 'T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
 Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
 Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, 
 No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
 Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, 
 Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, 
 That can denote me truly : these indeed seem, 
 For they are actions that a man might play : 
 
 1 Proof. 
 
58 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 But I have that within which passeth show ; 
 These but the trappings and the suits of woe. 
 
 IMMODERATE GRIEF DISCOMMENDED. 
 
 'T is sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, 
 
 To give these mourning duties to your father : 
 
 But, you must know, your father lost a father; 
 
 That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound 
 
 In filial obligation for some term 
 
 To do obsequious sorrow : but to persever 
 
 In obstinate condolement is a course 
 
 Of impious stubbornness ; 't is unmanly grief; 
 
 It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, 
 
 A heart unfortified, a mind impatient. 
 
 An understanding simple and unschooled : 
 
 For what we know must be and is as common 
 
 As any the most vulgar thing to sense. 
 
 Why should we in our peevish opposition 
 
 Take it to heart ? Fie ! 't is a fault to heaven, 
 
 A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
 
 To reason most absurd ; whose common theme 
 
 Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried. 
 
 From the first corse till he that died to-day, 
 
 * This must be so.' 
 
 hamlet's soliloquy on his mother's MARRIAGE 
 
 O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, 
 Thaw and resolve ' itself into a dew ! 
 
 1 Dissolve. 
 
Hamlet, 59 
 
 Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
 
 His canon i 'gainst self-slaughter ! O God ! God ! 
 
 How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, 
 
 Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 
 
 Fie on \ ! ah fie ! 't is an unweeded garden, 
 
 That grows to seed ; things rank and gross in nature 
 
 Possess it merely.'^ That it should come to this ! 
 
 But two months dead : nay, not so much, not two : 
 
 So excellent a king ; that was, to this, 
 
 Hyperion ^ to a satyr ; so loving to my mother 
 
 That he might not beteem ^ the winds of heaven 
 
 Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! 
 
 Must I remember? why, she would hang on him. 
 
 As if increase of appetite had grown 
 
 By what it fed on : and yet, within a month — 
 
 Let me not think on 't — Frailty, thy name is woman ! 
 
 A little month, or ere those shoes were old 
 
 With which she follow'd my poor father's body, 
 
 Like Niobe, all tears : — why she, even she — 
 
 O God ! a beast, that wants discourse of reason. 
 
 Would have mourn'd longer — married with my 
 
 uncle, 
 My father's brother, but no more like my father 
 Than I to Hercules : within a month : 
 Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
 Had left the flushing in her galled eyes. 
 She married. O, most wicked speed, to post 
 With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! 
 It is not nor it cannot come to good. 
 
 1 Law. 2 Entirely. 
 
 » Apollo. * Suffer. 
 
6o Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 THE EXTENT OF HUMAN PERFECTION. 
 
 He was a man, take him for all in all, 
 I shall not look upon his like again. 
 
 CAUTIONS TO YOUNG FEMALES. 
 
 For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour, 
 Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, 
 A violet in the youth of primy nature, 
 Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting. 
 The perfume and suppliance of a minute ; 
 No more. 
 
 Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, 
 If with too credent * ear you list ^ his songs. 
 Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open 
 To his unmaster'd ^ importunity. 
 Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, 
 And keep you in the rear of your affection, 
 Out of the shot and danger of desire. 
 The chariest * maid is prodigal enough. 
 If she unmask her beauty to the moon : 
 Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes : 
 The canker galls the infants of the spring. 
 Too oft before their buttons be disclosed. 
 And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
 Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
 
 * Believing. « Listen to. 
 
 » Licentious. < Most cautious. 
 
Hamlet, 6i 
 
 SATIRE ON UNGRACIOUS PASTORS. 
 
 I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, 
 
 As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, 
 
 Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, 
 
 Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ; 
 
 Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless * libertine, , 
 
 Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, 
 
 And recks not his own rede.* 
 
 ADVICE TO A SON GOING TO TRAVEL. 
 
 Give thy thoughts no tongue. 
 Nor any unproportionM thought his act. 
 Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 
 Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried. 
 Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; 
 But do not dull thy palm ^ with entertainment 
 Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware 
 Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, 
 Bear 't that the opposed may beware of thee. 
 Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice ; 
 Take each man's censure,"* but reserve thy judgment. 
 Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
 But not express'd in fancy ; rich, not gaudy ; 
 For the apparel oft proclaims the man. 
 And they in France of the best rank and station 
 Are of a most select and generous^ chiefs in that. 
 
 ' Careless. 2 Regards not his own lesson. 
 
 s.Palm of the hand. * Opinion. 
 
 6 Noble. « Chiefly. 
 
62 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; 
 For loan oft loses both itself and friend, 
 And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.^ 
 This above all : to thine own self be true, 
 And it must follow, as the night the day. 
 Thou canst not then be false to any man. 
 
 HAMLET ON THE APPEARANCE OF HIS FATHER'S 
 GHOST. 
 
 Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! 
 
 Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd. 
 
 Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, 
 
 Be thy intents wicked or charitable, 
 
 Thou comest in such a questionable ^ shape 
 
 That I will speak to thee : I '11 call thee Hamlet, 
 
 King, father, royal Dane : O, answer me ! 
 
 Let me not burst in ignorance ; but tell 
 
 Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death. 
 
 Have burst their cerements ; why the sepulchre. 
 
 Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd. 
 
 Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws. 
 
 To cast thee up again. What may this mean. 
 
 That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel 
 
 Revisifst thus the glimpses of the moon. 
 
 Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature 
 
 So horridly to shake our disposition 3 
 
 With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 
 
 1 Economy. sConversible. 3 Frame. 
 
Hamlet. 63 
 
 THE MISCHIEFS THE SPIRIT MIGHT TEMPT HIM TO. 
 
 What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, 
 Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff 
 That beetles ^ o'er his base into the sea, 
 And there assume some other horrible form, 
 Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason 
 And draw you into madness ? think of it : 
 The very place puts toys ^ of desperation, 
 Without more motive, into every brain 
 That looks so many fathoms to the sea 
 And hears it roar beneath. 
 
 THE GHOST'S TALE. 
 
 Hamlet. Where wilt thou lead me ? speak ; I '11 
 go no further. 
 
 Ghost. Mark me. 
 
 Ham. I will. 
 
 Ghost. My hour is almost come, 
 
 When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames 
 Must render up myself. 
 
 Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! 
 
 Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
 To what I shall unfold. 
 
 Ham. Speak ; I am bound to hear. 
 
 Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt 
 hear. 
 
 Ham. What? 
 
 Ghost. I am thy father's spirit, 
 
 1 Hangs. 2 Whims. 
 
64 Beauties of Shahspeare, 
 
 DoomM for a certain term to walk the night, 
 
 And for the day confined to fast in fires, 
 
 Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature 
 
 Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid 
 
 To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
 
 I could a tale unfold whose lightest word 
 
 Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood. 
 
 Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, 
 
 Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
 
 And each particular hair to stand on end, 
 
 Like quills upon the fretful porpentine : 
 
 But this eternal blazon ^ must not be 
 
 To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list ! 
 
 If thou didst ever thy dear father love — 
 
 Ham. O God ! 
 
 Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural 
 murder. 
 
 Ham. Murder ! 
 
 Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; 
 But this most foul, strange and unnatural. 
 
 Ham. Haste me to know 't, that I, with wings as 
 swift 
 As meditation or the thoughts of love, 
 May sweep to my revenge. 
 
 Ghost. I find thee apt ; 
 
 And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed 
 That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, 
 Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear : 
 'T is given out that, sleeping in my orchard, '^ 
 A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Denmark 
 
 1 Display. » Garden. 
 
Hamlet, 65 
 
 Is by a forged process of my death 
 Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth, 
 The serpent that did sting thy father's life 
 Now wears his crown. 
 
 Ham. O my prophetic soul ! my uncle ! 
 
 Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, 
 With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, — 
 O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power 
 So to seduce ! — won to his shameful lust 
 The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen : 
 
 Hamlet, what a falling-off was there ! 
 From me, whose love was of that dignity 
 That it went hand in hand even with the vow 
 
 1 made to her in marriage, and to decline 
 Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor 
 To those of mine ! 
 
 But virtue, as it never will be moved. 
 Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven. 
 So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd. 
 Will sate ^ itself in a celestial bed. 
 And prey on garbage. 
 
 But, soft ! methinks I scent the morning air ; 
 Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, 
 My custom always of the afternoon. 
 Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole. 
 With juice of cursed hebenon '^ in a vial, 
 And in the porches of my ears did pour 
 The leperous distilment ; whose effect 
 Holds such an enmity with blood of man 
 That swift as quicksilver it courses through 
 
 1 Satiate, « Henbane. 
 
66 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 The natural gates and alleys of the body, 
 And with a sudden vigour it doth posset 
 And curd, like eager droppings into milk, 
 The thin and wholesome blood : so did it mine ; 
 And a most instant tetter ^ bark'd about, 
 Most lazar-like,*^ with vile and loathsome crust, 
 All my smooth body. 
 
 Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand 
 Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatched : '' 
 Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, 
 Unhousel'd,'* disappointed,^ unaneled,*^ 
 No reckoning made, but sent to my account 
 With all my imperfections on my head : 
 O, horrible ! O, horrible ! most horrible ! 
 If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not ; 
 Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 
 A couch for luxury and damned incest. 
 But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, 
 Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
 Against thy mother aught : leave her to heaven 
 And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge. 
 To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once ! 
 The glow-worm shows the matin to be near. 
 And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire: 
 Adieu, adieu ! Hamlet, remember me. \_Exif. 
 
 Ham. O all you host of heaven ! O earth ! Wlia! 
 else? 
 
 1 Scab, scurf, 2 Leprous. » Bereft. 
 
 * Without having received the Sacrament. 
 
 * Unappointed, unprepared. 
 •Without extreme unction. 
 
Hamlet, 67 
 
 And shall I couple hell? O, fie ! Hold, hold, my 
 
 heart ; 
 And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, 
 But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee ! 
 Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat 
 In this distracted globe. ^ Remember thee ! 
 Yea, from the table of my memory 
 I Ul wipe away all trivial fond records, 
 All saws 2 of books, all forms, all pressures past, 
 That youth and observation copied there ; 
 And thy commandment all alone shall live 
 Within the book and volume of my brain, 
 UnmixM with baser matter : yes, by heaven ! 
 O most pernicious woman ! 
 O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain ! 
 My tables,' — meet it is I set it down, 
 That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain ; 
 At least I 'm sure it may be so in Denmark : 
 
 [ Writing. 
 So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; 
 It is ' Adieu, adieu ! remember me.' 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 OPHELIA'S DESCRIPTION OF HAMLET'S MAD ADDRESS 
 TO HER 
 
 My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, 
 Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced ; 
 No hat upon his head ; his stockings foul'd, 
 
 iHead. 2 Sayings. » Memorandum-book. 
 
68 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Ungarter'd, and down-gyved ^ to his ankle ; 
 
 Pale as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other ; 
 
 And with a look so piteous in purport 
 
 As if he had been loosed out of hell 
 
 To speak of horrors, — he comes before me. 
 
 Polonius. Mad for thy love ? 
 
 Ophelia. My lord, I do not know ; 
 
 But truly, I do fear it. 
 
 Pol. What said he ? 
 
 Oph. He took me by the wrist and held me hard ; 
 Then goes he to the length of all his arm ; 
 And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, 
 He falls to such perusal of my face 
 As he would draw it. Long stayed he so ; 
 At last, a little shaking of mine arm 
 And thrice his head thus waving up and down, 
 He raised a sigh so piteous and profound 
 As it did seem to shatter all his bulk ^ 
 And end his being : that done, he lets me go : 
 And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd. 
 He seem'd to find his way without his eyes ; 
 For out o' doors he went without their helps, 
 And, to the last, bended their light on me. 
 
 OLD AGE. 
 
 Beshrew my jealousy ! 
 By heaven, it is as proper to our age 
 To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions 
 As it is common for the younger sort 
 To lack discretion. 
 
 ^Hanging down like fetters. ' Body. 
 
Hamlet, 69 
 
 HAPPINESS CONSISTS IN OPINION. 
 
 Why, then, 't is none to you ; for there is nothing 
 either good or bad, but thinking makes it so : to me 
 it is a prison. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON MAN. 
 
 I have of late — but wherefore I know not — lost 
 all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises ; and 
 indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that 
 this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile 
 promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look 
 you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical 
 roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other 
 thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of 
 vapours. What a piece of work is a man ! How 
 noble in reason ! how infinite in faculty I in form and 
 moving how express and admirable ! in action how 
 like an angel ! in apprehension how like a god ! the 
 beauty of the world ! the paragon of animals ! And 
 yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man 
 delights not me : no, nor woman neither, thougli by 
 your smiling you seem to say so. 
 
 hamlet's reflections on the player and 
 
 HIMSELF. 
 
 O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! 
 Is it not monstrous that this player here, 
 But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, . 
 Could force his soul so to his own conceit 
 
70 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That from her working all his visage wann'd, 
 
 Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, 
 
 A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
 
 With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing ! 
 
 For Hecuba ! 
 
 What 's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
 
 That he should weep for her? What would he do, 
 
 Had he the motive and the cue for passion 
 
 That I have? He would drown the stage with tears 
 
 And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, 
 
 Make mad the guilty and appal the free. 
 
 Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed 
 
 The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
 
 Yet I, 
 
 A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, 
 
 Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, 
 
 And can say nothing ; no, not for a king. 
 
 Upon whose property and most dear life 
 
 A damn'd defeat ^ was made. Am I a coward? 
 
 Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? 
 
 Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face ? 
 
 Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the 
 
 throat, 
 As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this? 
 Ha! 
 
 'S wounds, I should take it : for it cannot be 
 But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall 
 To make oppression bitter, or ere this 
 I should have fatted all the region kites 
 With this slave's oflfal : bloody, bawdy villain ! 
 
 1 Destruction. 
 
Hamlet. 7 ^ 
 
 Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless ^ vil- 
 lain ! 
 O, vengeance ! 
 
 Why, what an ass am I ! This is most brave, 
 That I, the son of a dear father murder'd. 
 Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, 
 Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, 
 And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, 
 A scullion. 
 
 Fie upon 't ! foh ! About, my brain ! I have heard 
 That guilty creatures sitting at a play 
 Have by the very cunning of the scene 
 Been struck so to the soul that presently 
 They have proclaimed their malefactions ; 
 For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
 With most miraculous organ. I '11 have these players 
 Play something like the murder of my father 
 Before mine uncle : I Ul observe his looks ; 
 I '11 tent him to the quick : ^ if he but blench,^ 
 I know my course. The spirit that I have seen 
 May be the devil : and the devil hath power 
 To assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and perhaps 
 Out of my weakness and my melancholy. 
 As he is very potent with such spirits, 
 Abuses me to damn me : I '11 have grounds 
 More relative than this : the play 's the thing 
 Wherein I '11 catch the conscience of the king. 
 
 1 Unnatural. 2 Search his wounds. s Shrink, or start. 
 
72 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 HYPOCRISY. 
 
 We are oft to blame in this, — 
 'T is too much proved ^ — that with devotion's visage 
 And pious action we do sugar o'er 
 The devil himself. 
 
 King. [Aside.'] O, 't is too true ! how smart 
 A lash that speech doth give my conscience ! 
 The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, 
 Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it 
 Than is my deed to my most painted word. 
 
 SOLILOQUY ON LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 To be, or not to be : that is the question : 
 
 Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer 
 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 
 And by opposing end them ? To die : to sleep ; 
 
 No more ; and by a sleep to say we end 
 
 The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks 
 
 That flesh is heir to, 't is a consummation 
 
 Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; 
 
 To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there 's the rub ; 
 
 For in that sleep of death what dreams may come 
 
 When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,*^ 
 
 ''lust give us pause : there 's the respect ^ 
 
 That makes calamity of so long life ; 
 
 1 Too frequent. * Stir, bustle. » Consideration. 
 
Hamlet, 73 
 
 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
 
 The oppressors wrong, the proud man's contumely,^ 
 
 The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
 
 The insolence of office and the spurns 
 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
 
 When he himself might his quietus ^ make 
 
 With a bare bodkin ? ^ who would fardels "* bear, 
 
 To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 
 
 But that the dread of something after death, 
 
 The undiscovered country from whose bourn ^ 
 
 No traveller returns, puzzles the will 
 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have 
 
 Than fly to others that we know not of ? 
 
 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 
 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 
 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, 
 
 And enterprises of great pitch and moment 
 
 With this regard their currents turn awry, 
 
 And lose the name of action. 
 
 CALUMNY. 
 
 Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou 
 shalt not escape calumny. 
 
 A DISORDERED MIND. 
 
 O, what a noble mind is here overthrown ! 
 The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, 
 sword ; 
 
 1 Rudeness. 2 Acquittance. 
 
 8 The ancient term for a small dagger. 
 
 * Pack, burden. 6 Boundary, limits. 
 
74 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 
 The glass of fashion and the mould ^ of form, 
 The observed of all observers, quite, quite down ! 
 And I, of ladies most deject and wretched. 
 That suck'd the honey of his music vows, 
 Now see that noble and most sovereign reason. 
 Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh ; 
 That unmatched form and feature of blown youth 
 Blasted with ecstasy. ^ 
 
 hamlet's instructions to the players. 
 
 Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it 
 to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth 
 it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the 
 town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air 
 too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently ; 
 for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, 
 the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget 
 a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it 
 offends me to the soul to hear a robustious perivvig- 
 pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, 
 to split the ears of the groundlings,^ who for the 
 most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable 
 dumb-shows and noise : I would have such a fellow 
 whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it out-herods 
 Herod : * pray you, avoid it. 
 
 ist Player. I warrant your honour. 
 
 iThe model by whom all endeavoured to form themselves. 
 8 Alienation of mind. 
 
 8 The meaner people then seem to have sat in the pit. 
 * Herod's character was always violent. 
 
Hamlet. 75 
 
 Hamlet. Be not too tame neither, but let your 
 own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the 
 word, the word to the action; with this special 
 observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of 
 nature : for any thing so overdone is from the pur- 
 pose of playing, whose end, both at the first and 
 now, was and is, to hold, as 't were, the mirror up to 
 nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her 
 own image, and the very age and body of the time 
 his form and pressure. i Now this overdone, or come 
 tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot 
 but make the judicious grieve ; the censure of the 
 which one must in your allowance ^ o'erweigh a 
 whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I 
 have seen play, and heard others praise, and that 
 highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having 
 the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, 
 pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that 
 I have thought some of nature's journeymen had 
 made men and not made them well, they imitated 
 humanity so abominably. 
 
 1st Play. I hope we have reformed that indiffer- 
 ently with us, sir. 
 
 Ham. O, reform it altogether. And let those that 
 play your clowns speak no more than is set down for 
 them ; for there be of them that will themselves 
 laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators 
 to laugh too; though, in the mean time, some 
 necessary question ^ of the play be then to be con- 
 
 1 Impression, resemblance. 2 Approbation. 
 
 8 Conversation, discourse. 
 
76 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 sidered : that 's villanous, and shows a most pitiful 
 ambition in the fool that uses it. 
 
 ON FLATTERY AND AN EVEN-MINDED MAN. 
 
 Nay, do not think I flatter ; 
 For what advancement may I hope from thee 
 That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, 
 To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be 
 
 flatter^? 
 No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, 
 And crook the pregnant ^ hinges of the knee 
 Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? 
 Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice 
 And could of men distinguish, her election 
 Hath seaPd thee for herself; for thou hast been 
 As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, 
 A man that fortune's buffets and rewards 
 Hast ta'en with equal thanks : and blest are those 
 Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled. 
 That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger 
 To sound what stop she please. Give me that man 
 That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
 In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, 
 As I do thee. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 'T is now the very witching time of night, 
 When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out 
 Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot 
 blood, 
 
 1 Quick, ready. 
 
Hamlet. 77 
 
 And do such bitter business as the day 
 
 Would quake to look on. Soft ! now to my mother. 
 
 heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever 
 The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom : 
 Let me be cruel, not unnatural : 
 
 1 will speak daggers to her, but use none. 
 
 THE king's despairing SOLILOQUY, AND HAMLET'S 
 REFLECTIONS ON HIM. 
 
 O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; 
 
 It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, 
 
 A brother's murder. Pray can I not, 
 
 Though inclination be as sharp as will : 
 
 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent ; 
 
 And, like a man to double business bound, 
 
 I stand in pause where I shall first begin. 
 
 And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 
 
 Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, 
 
 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 
 
 To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy 
 
 But to confront the visage of offence ? 
 
 And what 's in prayer but this two-fold force. 
 
 To be forestalled ere we come to fall, 
 
 Or pardon'd being down ? Then I '11 look up ; 
 
 My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer 
 
 Can serve my turn ? * Forgive me my foul murder ' ? 
 
 That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd 
 
 Of those effects for which I did the murder. 
 
 My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. 
 
 May one be pardon'd and retain the offence? 
 
78 Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 In the corrupted currents of this world 
 
 Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, 
 
 And oft 't is seen the wicked prize itself 
 
 Buys out the law : but 't is not so above ; 
 
 There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
 
 In his true nature ; and we ourselves compelPd, 
 
 Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
 
 To give in evidence. What then? what rests? 
 
 Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 
 
 Yet what can it when one cannot repent? 
 
 O wretched state ! O bosom black as death ! 
 
 O limed ^ soul, that, struggling to be free, 
 
 Art more engaged ! Help, angels ! make assay ! 
 
 Bow, stubborn knees ; and, heart with strings of 
 
 steel. 
 Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! 
 All may be well. \_Retires and kneels. 
 
 Enter Hamlet. 
 Hamlet. Now might I do it pat, now he is pray- 
 ing ; 
 And now I '11 do 't. And so he goes to heaven ; 
 And so I am revenged. That would be scann'd : ^ 
 A villain kills my father ; and for that, 
 I, his sole^ son, do this same villain send 
 To heaven. 
 
 O, this is hire and salary,^ not revenge. 
 He took my father grossly, full of bread ; 
 With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May ; 
 
 1 Caught as with bird-lime. * Should be considered. 
 
 » Only. * Reward. 
 
Hamlet, 79 
 
 And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? 
 
 But in our circumstance and course of thought, 
 
 'T is heavy with him : and am I tlien revenged, 
 
 To take him in the purging of his soul, 
 
 When he is fit and season'd for his passage ? 
 
 No! 
 
 Up, sword ; and know thou a more horrid hent :^ 
 
 When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, 
 
 Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed ; 
 
 At gaming, swearing, or about some act 
 
 That has no relish of salvation in 't ; 
 
 Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven. 
 
 And that his soul may be as damn'd and black 
 
 As hell, whereto it goes. 
 
 HAMLET AND HIS MOTHER. 
 
 Queen. What have I done, that Ihou darest wag 
 thy tongue 
 In noise so rude against me? 
 
 Hamlet. Such an act 
 
 That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, 
 Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose 
 From the fair forehead of an innocent love 
 And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows 
 As false as dicers' oaths : O, such a deed 
 As from the body of contraction ^ plucks 
 The very soul, and sweet religion makes 
 A rhapsody of words : heaven's face doth glow ; 
 Yea, this solidity and compound mass, 
 
 1 Seize him at a more horrid time. » Marriage contract. 
 
8o Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 With tristful ' visage, as against the doom, 
 Is thought-sick at the act. 
 
 Queen. Ay me, what act, 
 
 That roars so loud, and thunders in the index? 2 
 
 Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this, 
 The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
 See, what a grace was seated on this brow ; 
 Hyperion's^ curls; the front of Jove himself; 
 An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ; 
 A station " like the herald Mercury 
 New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; 
 A combination and a form indeed. 
 Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
 To give the world assurance of a man : 
 This was your husband. Look you now, what 
 
 follows : 
 Here is your husband ; like a mildew'd ear, 
 Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? 
 Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed. 
 And batten* on this moor? Ha ! have you eyes? 
 You cannot call it love ; for at your age 
 The hey-day in the blood is tame, it 's humble. 
 And waits upon the judgment : and what judgment 
 Would step from this to this? Sense, ^ sure, you 
 
 have, 
 Else could you not have motion ; but sure, that sense 
 Is apoplex'd ; for madness would not err. 
 Nor sense to ecstasy ' was ne'er so thraird 
 
 1 Sorrowful. * Index of contents prefixed to books. 
 
 'Apollo's, * The act of standing. 
 
 * To grow fat. « Sensation. ^ Frenzy. 
 
Hamlet. 8i 
 
 But it reserved some quantity of choice, 
 
 To serve in such a difference. What devil was 't 
 
 That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind ? ^ 
 
 Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, 
 
 Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans ^ all, 
 
 Or but a sickly part of one true sense 
 
 Could not so mope. ^ 
 
 O shame ! where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell, 
 
 If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, 
 
 To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 
 
 And melt in her own fire : proclaim no shame 
 
 When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, 
 
 Since frost itself as actively doth burn 
 
 And reason pandars will. 
 
 Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more : 
 
 Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ; 
 And there I see such black and grained spots 
 As will not leave their tinct.* 
 
 Enter Ghost. 
 Hamlet. Save me, and hover o'er me with your 
 wings. 
 You heavenly guards ! What would your gracious 
 figure? 
 Queen. Alas, he 's mad ! 
 
 Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to chide. 
 That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by 
 The important acting of your dread command ? 
 O, say ! 
 
 1 Blindman's-bufF. 2 Without. 
 
 8 Be so stupid. * Colour. 
 
82 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Ghost. Do not forget : this visitation 
 Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. 
 But, look, amazement on thy mother sits : 
 O, step between her and her fighting soul : 
 Conceit ^ in weakest bodies strongest works : 
 Speak to her, Hamlet. 
 
 Ham. How is it with you, lady.-* 
 
 Queen. Alas, how is 't with you, 
 That you do bend your eye on vacancy 
 And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? 
 Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep ; 
 And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, 
 Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, ^ 
 Start up, and stand on end. O gentle son, 
 Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
 Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? 
 
 Ham. On him, on him ! Look you, how pale he 
 glares ! 
 His form and cause conjoined, preaching to stones, 
 Would make them capable.^ Do not look upon me ; 
 Lest with this piteous action you convert 
 My stern effects ; "* then what I have to do 
 Will want true colour; tears perchance ^ for blood. 
 
 Queen. To whom do you speak this? 
 
 Ham. Do you see nothing there ? 
 
 Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all that is I see. 
 
 Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? 
 
 1 Imagination. 
 
 *The hair of animals is excrementitious, that is, without life or 
 sensation. 
 » Intelligent. * Actions. » Perhaps. 
 
Hamlet. 83 
 
 Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. 
 
 Ham. Why, look you there ! look, how it steals 
 away ! 
 My father, in his habit as he lived ! 
 Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal ! 
 
 [Exit Ghost. 
 
 Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : 
 This bodiless creation ecstasy ^ 
 Is very cunning in. 
 
 Ham. Ecstasy ! 
 
 My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, 
 And makes as healthful music : it is not madness 
 That I have utter'd : bring me to the test, 
 And I the matter will re-word ; which madness 
 Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, 
 Lay not that flattering unction to your soul. 
 That not your trespass, but my madness speaks : 
 It will but skin and film the ulcerous place. 
 Whiles rank corruption, mining all within. 
 Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ; 
 Repent what 's past ; avoid what is to come ; 
 And do not spread the compost ^ on the weeds, 
 To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue ; 
 For in the fatness of these pursy times 
 Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg. 
 Yea, curb ^ and woo for leave to do him good. 
 
 Queen. O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in 
 twain. 
 
 Ham. O, throw away the worser part of it, 
 And live the purer with the oiher half. 
 
 1 Frenzy. * Manure. » Bend. 
 
84 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Good night : but go not to mine uncle's bed ; 
 
 Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
 
 That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, 
 
 Of habits devil, is angel yet in this. 
 
 That to the use of actions fair and good 
 
 He likewise gives a frock or livery, 
 
 That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, 
 
 And that shall lend a kind of easiness 
 
 To the next abstinence : the next more easy ; 
 
 For use almost can change the stamp of nature. 
 
 And either curb the devil, or throw him out 
 
 With wondrous potency. Once more, good night: 
 
 And when you are desirous to be bless'd, 
 
 I 11 blessing beg of you. For this same lord, 
 
 [Pointing to Polonius. 
 I do repent : but heaven hath pleased it so, 
 To punish me with this and this with me. 
 That I must be their scourge and minister. 
 I will bestow him, and will answer well 
 The death I gave him. So, again, good night. 
 I must be cruel, only to be kind : 
 Thus bad begins and worse remains behind. 
 One word more, good lady. 
 
 Queen. What shall I do? 
 
 Ham. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do : 
 Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed ; 
 Pinch wanton on your cheek ; call you his mouse ;^ 
 And let him, for a pair of reechy ^ kisses, 
 Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, 
 Make you to ravel all this matter out, 
 
 1 A term of endearment. * Steaming with heat. 
 
Hamlet. 85 
 
 That I essentially am not in madness, 
 
 But mad in craft. T were good you let him know ; 
 
 For who, that 's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, 
 
 Would from a paddock,' from a bat, a gib,^ 
 
 Such dear concernings hide ? Who would do so ? 
 
 No, in despite of sense and secrecy. 
 
 Unpeg the basket on the house's top. 
 
 Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, 
 
 To try conclusions,^ in the basket creep, 
 
 And break your own neck down. 
 
 Queen. Be thou assured, if words be made of 
 breath. 
 And breath of life, I have no life to breathe 
 What thou hast said to me. 
 
 Ham. I must to England; you know that? 
 
 Queen. Alack, 
 
 I had forgot : 't is so concluded on. 
 
 Ha77i. There 's letters seaPd : and my two school- 
 fellows. 
 Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd," 
 They bear the mandate ; they must sweep my way, 
 And marshal me to knavery. Let it work ; 
 For 't is the sport to have the engineer 
 Hoist with his own petar : ^ and 't shall go hard 
 But I will delve one yard below their mines, 
 And blow them at the moon. 
 
 1 Toad. 2 Cat. 3 Experiments. 
 
 * Having their teeth. ^ Blown up with his own bomb. 
 
86 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 hamlet's irresolution. 
 
 How all occasions do inform against me, 
 
 And spur my dull revenge ! What is a man, 
 
 If his chief good and market^ of his time 
 
 Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. 
 
 Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,' 
 
 Looking before and after, gave us not 
 
 That capability and god-like reason 
 
 To fust ^ in us unused. Now, whether it be 
 
 Bestial oblivion, or some craven * scruple 
 
 Of thinking too precisely on the event, 
 
 A thought which, quartered, hath but one part 
 
 wisdom 
 And ever three parts coward, I do not know 
 Why yet I live to say ' This thing 's to do ; ' 
 Sith ^ I have cause and will and strength and means 
 To do 't. Examples gross as earth exhort me : 
 Witness this army of such mass and charge 
 Led by a delicate and tender prince. 
 Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd 
 Makes mouths at the invisible event, 
 Exposing what is mortal and unsure 
 To all that fortune, death and danger dare, 
 Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great 
 Is not to stir without great argument, 
 
 1 Profit. » Power of comprehension. 
 
 » Grow mouldy. * Cowardly. o Since. 
 
Hamlet, S7 
 
 But greatly to find quarrel in a straw 
 When honor 's at the stake. How stand I then, 
 That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, 
 Excitements of my reason and my blood, 
 And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see 
 The imminent death of twenty thousand men, 
 That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, 
 Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot 
 Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause. 
 Which is not tomb enough and continent 
 To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, 
 My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! 
 
 SORROWS RARELY SINGLE. 
 
 O Gertrude, Gertrude, 
 When sorrows come, they come not single spies, 
 But in battalions. 
 
 THE DIVINITY OF KINGS. 
 
 Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person : 
 There 's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
 That treason can but peep to what it would. 
 Acts little of his will. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF OPHELIA'S DEATH. 
 
 There is a willow grows aslant a brook. 
 That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ; 
 .There with fantastic garlands did she come 
 
88 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples ^ 
 
 That liberal' shepherds give a grosser name. 
 
 But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call 
 
 them : 
 There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 
 Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; 
 When down her weedy trophies and herself 
 Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread 
 
 wide; 
 And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up : 
 Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes ; 
 As one incapable ^ of her own distress. 
 Or like a creature native and indued 
 Unto that element : but long it could not be 
 Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 
 Puird the poor wretch from her melodious lay 
 To muddy death. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 hamlet's reflections on yorick's skull. 
 
 1st Clown. A pestilence on him for a mad 
 rogue ! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head 
 once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the 
 king's jester. 
 
 Hamlet. This ? 
 
 1st Clown. E'en that. 
 
 Ham. Let me see. [Takes the skull.'] Alas, 
 
 1 Orchis ntorio mas. * licentious. » Insensible. 
 
Hamlet. 89 
 
 poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of in- 
 finite jest, of most excellent fancy : h& hath borne 
 me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how 
 abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at 
 it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know 
 not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your 
 gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, 
 that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one 
 now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? 
 Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let 
 her paint an inch thick, to this favour * she must 
 come ; make her laugh at that. 
 
 OPHELIA'S INTERMENT. 
 
 Lay her i' the earth : 
 And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
 May violets spring ! I tell thee, churlish priest, 
 A ministering angel shall my sister be, 
 When thou liest howling. 
 
 MELANCHOLY. 
 
 This is mere madness 
 And thus awhile the fit will work on him ; 
 Anon, as patient as the female dove. 
 When that her golden couplets are disclosed, 2 
 His silence will sit drooping. 
 
 1 Countenance, complexion. 2 Hatched. 
 
90 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 PROVIDENCE DIRECTS OUR ACTIONS. 
 
 And that should teach us 
 There 's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them how we will. 
 
 A HEALTH. 
 
 Give me the cups ; 
 And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, 
 The trumpet to the cannoneer without. 
 The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, 
 * Now the king drinks to Hamlet.' 
 
JULIUS C/ESAR. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 PATRIOTISM. 
 
 What is it that you would impart to me? 
 
 If it be aught toward the general good, 
 
 Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, 
 
 And I will look on both indifferently : 
 
 For let the gods so speed me as I love 
 
 The name of honour more than I fear death. 
 
 CONTEMPT OF CASSIUS FOR CAESAR. 
 
 I was born free as Caesar ; so were you : 
 
 We both have fed as well, and we can both 
 
 Endure the winter's cold as well as he : 
 
 For once, upon a raw and gusty ^ day, 
 
 The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, 
 
 Caesar said to me ' Barest thou, Cassius, now 
 
 Leap in with me into this angry flood, 
 
 And swim to yonder point ? ' Upon the word, 
 
 Accoutred as I was, I plunged in 
 
 And bade him follow ; so indeed he did. 
 
 The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it 
 
 » Windy. 
 
92 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 With lusty sinews, throwing it aside 
 
 And stemming it with hearts of controversy ; 
 
 But ere we could arrive the point proposed, 
 
 Caesar cried. ' Help me, Cassius, or I sink ! ' 
 
 I, as ^neas, our great ancestor. 
 
 Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 
 
 The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber 
 
 Did I the tired Caesar. And this man 
 
 Is now become a god, and Cassius is 
 
 A wretched creature and must bend his body, 
 
 If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. 
 
 He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
 
 And when the fit was on him, I did mark 
 
 How he did shake : 't is true, this god did shake : 
 
 His coward lips did from their colour fly, 
 
 And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world 
 
 Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : 
 
 Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans 
 
 Mark him and write his speeches in their books, 
 
 Alas, it cried ' Give me some drink, Titinius,' 
 
 As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me 
 
 A man of such a feeble temper ^ should 
 
 So get the start of the majestic world 
 
 And bear the palm alone. [Shout. Flourish. 
 
 Brutus. Another general shout ! 
 I do believe that these applauses are 
 For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. 
 
 Cassius. Why, man,* he doth bestride the narrow 
 world 
 Like a Colossus, and we petty men 
 
 1 Temperament, constitution. 
 
Julius Ccesar, 93 
 
 Walk under his huge legs and peep about 
 
 To find ourselves dishonourable graves. 
 
 Men at some time are masters of their fates : 
 
 The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
 
 But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
 
 Brutus and Caesar : what should be in that * Caesar ' ? 
 
 Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? 
 
 Write them together, yours is as fair a name ; 
 
 Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well ; 
 
 Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, 
 
 Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. 
 
 Now, in the names of all the gods at once, 
 
 Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, 
 
 That he is grown so great ? Age, thou art shamed ! 
 
 Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! 
 
 When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
 
 But it was famed with more than with one man? 
 
 When could they say till now, that talk'd of Rome, 
 
 That her wide walls encompassed but one man? 
 
 CiESAR'S DISLIKE OF CASSIUS. 
 
 Would he were fatter ! But I fear him not : 
 
 Yet if my name were liable to fear, 
 
 I do not know the man I should avoid 
 
 So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; 
 
 He is a great observer and he looks 
 
 Quite through the deeds of men ; he loves no plays, 
 
 As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no music ; 
 
 Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort 
 
 As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit 
 
94 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That could be moved to smile at any thing. 
 Such men as he be never at heart's ease 
 Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, 
 And therefore are they very dangerous. 
 I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd 
 Than what I fear ; for always I am Caesar. 
 
 SPIRIT OF LIBERTY. 
 
 I know where I will wear this dagger then ; 
 Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius : 
 Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong ; 
 Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat : 
 Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, 
 Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, 
 Can be retentive to the strength of spirit ; 
 But life, being weary of these worldly bars. 
 Never lacks power to dismiss itself. 
 If I know this, know all the world besides, 
 That part of tyranny that I do bear 
 I can shake off at pleasure. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 AMBITION CLOTHED WITH SPECIOUS HUMILITY. 
 
 But 't is a common proof,' 
 That lowliness is young ambition's ladder. 
 Whereto the climber-upward turns his face ; 
 But when he once attains the upmost round, 
 
 1 Experience. 
 
Julius Ccesar, 95 
 
 He then unto the ladder turns his back, 
 
 Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees ^ 
 
 By which he did ascend. 
 
 CONSPIRACY DREADFUL TILL EXECUTED. 
 
 Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
 And the first motion, all the interim is 
 Like a phantasma,^ or a hideous dream : 
 The Genius and the mortal instruments 
 Are then in council ; and the state of man, 
 Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
 The nature of an insurrection. 
 
 BRUTUS' APOSTROPHE TO CONSPIRACY. 
 
 O conspiracy, 
 Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, 
 When evils are most free? O, then by day 
 Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
 To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, coi>' 
 
 spiracy ; 
 Hide it in smiles and affability : 
 For if thou path, thy native semblance^ on, 
 Not Erebus '* itself were dim enough 
 To hide thee from prevention. 
 
 AGAINST CRUELTY. 
 
 Gentle friends, 
 Let 's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ; 
 
 1 Low steps. 2 Visionary. 
 
 8 Walk in thy true form. * Hell. 
 
g6 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Let 's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, 
 Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds : 
 And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, 
 Stir up their servants to an act of rage. 
 And after seem to chide 'em. 
 
 Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber : 
 Thou hast no figures ^ nor no fantasies, 
 Which busy care draws in the brains of men; 
 Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 
 
 PORTIA'S SPEECH TO BRUTUS. 
 
 You 've ungently, Brutus, 
 Stole from my bed : and yesternight, at supper, 
 You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, 
 Musing and sighing, with your arms across. 
 And when I ask'd you what the matter was. 
 You stared upon me with ungentle looks ; 
 I urged you further; then you scratch 'd your head, 
 And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot ; 
 Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, 
 But, with an angry wafture of your hand. 
 Gave sign for me to leave you : so I did ; 
 Fearing to strengthen that impatience 
 Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal 
 Hoping it was but an effect of humour. 
 Which sometime hath his hour with every man. 
 
 1 Shapes created by imagination. 
 
Julius Ccesar. 97 
 
 It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep. 
 And could it work so much upon your shape 
 As it hath much prevaiPd on your condition,' 
 I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord. 
 Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 
 
 calpurnia's address to c^sar on the prodi- 
 gies SEEN THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS DEATH. 
 
 Calpurnia. Cassar, I never stood on ceremonies,^ 
 Yet now they fright me. There is one within. 
 Besides the things that we have heard and seen, 
 Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 
 A lioness hath whelped in the streets ; 
 And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead ; 
 Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds, 
 In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, 
 Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol ; 
 The noise of battle hurtled ^ in the air, 
 Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan, 
 And ghosts did shriek and squeal ^ about the streets. 
 O Caesar ! these things are beyond all use. 
 And I do fear them. 
 
 CcBsar. What can be avoided 
 
 Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods ? 
 Yet Caesar shall go forth ; for these predictions 
 Are to the world in general as to Caesar. 
 
 Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets seen ; 
 The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of 
 
 princes. 
 
 1 Temper. 2 Never paid a regard to prodigies or omens. 
 
 3 JIncountered, * Cry with pain. 
 
g8 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 A.GAINST THE FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 Cowards die many times before their deaths ; 
 
 The vahant never taste of death but once. 
 
 Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 
 
 It seems to me most strange that men should fear ; 
 
 Seeing that death, a necessary end, 
 
 Will come when it will come. 
 
 DANGER. 
 
 Danger knows full well 
 That Caesar is more dangerous than he ; 
 We are two lions littered in one day, 
 And I the elder and more terrible. 
 
 ENVY. 
 
 My heart laments that virtue cannot live 
 Out of the teeth of emulation.' 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 ANTONY'S ADDRESS TO THE CORPSE OF CESAR. 
 
 O mighty Caesar ! dost thou lie so low ? 
 
 Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
 
 Shrunk to this little measure ? Fare thee well. 
 
 1 Envy. 
 
Julius CcBsar, 99 
 
 ANTONY'S SPEECH TO THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, 
 
 Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:' 
 
 If I myself, there is no hour so fit 
 
 As Caesar's death's hour, nor no instrument 
 
 Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich 
 
 With the most noble blood of all this world. 
 
 I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard. 
 
 Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, 
 
 Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
 
 I shall not find myself so apt to die : 
 
 No place will please me so, no mean of death, 
 
 As here by Caesar, and by you cut off. 
 
 The choice and master spirits of this age. 
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 
 With At6 by his side come hot from hell, 
 Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice 
 Cry ' Havoc,'* and let slip^ the dogs of war. 
 
 BRUTUS' SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE. 
 
 If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend 
 of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar 
 was no less than his. If then that friend demand 
 
 1 Grown too high for the public safety. 
 
 2 The signal for giving no quarter. 
 
 3 To let slip a dog at a deer, &c. was the technical phrase of 
 Shakspeare's time. 
 
loo Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer : — 
 Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome 
 more. Had you rather Caesar were living and die all 
 slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all free 
 men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he 
 was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was vahant, I 
 honour him : but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. 
 There is tears for his love ; joy for his fortune ; honour 
 for his valour ; and death for his ambition. Who is 
 here so base that would be a bondman? If any, 
 speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so 
 rude that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak ; 
 for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that 
 will not love his country? If any, speak; for him 
 have I offended. 
 
 ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION. 
 
 Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears ; 
 
 I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
 
 The evil that men do lives after them ; 
 
 The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
 
 So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus 
 
 Hath told you Caesar was ambitious : 
 
 If it were so, it was a grievous fault, 
 
 And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. 
 
 Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest — 
 
 For Brutus is an honourable man ; 
 
 So are they all, all honourable men — 
 
 Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 
 
 He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
 
Jutius' Cmat, ^ lot 
 
 But Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And Brutus is an honourable man. 
 
 He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
 
 Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 
 
 Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 
 
 When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept : 
 
 Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And Brutus is an honourable man. 
 
 You all did see that on the Lupercal 
 
 I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
 
 Which he did thrice refuse : was this ambition ? 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
 
 I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
 
 But here I am to speak what I do know. 
 
 You all did love him once, not without cause : 
 
 What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? 
 
 O judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
 
 And men have lost their reason. Bear with me ; 
 
 My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 
 
 And I must pause till it come back to me. 
 
 But yesterday the word of Caesar might 
 
 Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, 
 
 And none so poor ^ to do him reverence. 
 
 masters, if I were disposed to stir 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
 
 1 The meanest man is now too high to do reverence to Caesar. 
 
loz Beau ties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Who, you all know, are honourable men : 
 
 I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 
 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
 
 Than I will wrong such honourable men. 
 
 But here 's a parchment with the seal of Caesar ; 
 
 I found it in his closet, 't is his will : 
 
 Let but the commons hear this testament — 
 
 Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read — 
 
 And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds 
 
 And dip their napkins ' in his sacred blood. 
 
 Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. 
 
 And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
 
 Bequeathing it as a rich legacy 
 
 Unto their issue. 
 
 4th Citizen. We '11 hear the will : read it, Mark 
 Antony. 
 
 All. The will, the will ! we will hear Caesar's will. 
 
 Antony. Have patience, gentle friends, I must 
 not read it ; 
 It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. 
 You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; 
 And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, 
 It will inflame you, it will make you mad : 
 'T is good you know not that you are his heirs ; 
 For, if you should, O, what would come of it ! 
 
 ^th at. Read the will ; we '11 hear it, Antony ; 
 You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. 
 
 Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay a 
 while t 
 
 1 Handkerchiefs. 
 
Julius Ccesar, 103 
 
 J have o'ershot myself to tell you of it : 
 
 I fear I wrong the honourable men 
 
 Whose daggers have stabb'd Csesar ; I do fear it. 
 
 4.th at. They were traitors : honourable men ! 
 
 All. The will ! the testament ! 
 
 2d at. They were villains, murderers : the will ! 
 Read the will. 
 
 Ant. You will compel me, then, to read the will? 
 Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 
 And let me show you him that made the will. 
 Shall I descend ? And will you give me leave ? 
 
 Several at. Come down. 
 
 2d at. Descend. 
 
 ^d at. You shall have leave. 
 
 \Antony comes down. 
 
 Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
 You all do know this mantle : I remember 
 The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 
 'T was on a summer's evening, in his tent, 
 That day he overcame the Nervii : 
 Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through : 
 See what a rent the envious Casca made : 
 Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; 
 And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 
 Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it. 
 As rushing out of doors, to be resolved 
 If Brutus so unkindly knockM, or no ; 
 For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel : 
 
I04 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him ! 
 This was the most unkindest cut of all ; 
 For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 
 Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms. 
 Quite vanquish'd him : then burst his mighty heart ; 
 And, in his mantle muffling up his face. 
 Even at the base of Pompey''s statua,' 
 Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
 O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! 
 Then I, and you, and all of us fell down. 
 Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.^ 
 O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel 
 The dint^ of pity: these are gracious drops. 
 Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold 
 Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here. 
 Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. 
 1st at, O piteous spectacle ! 
 
 2d at. We will be revenged. 
 All. Revenge ! About ! Seek ! Burn ! Fire ! 
 Kill ! Slay ! Let not a traitor live ! 
 
 Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir 
 you up 
 To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 
 They that have done this deed are honourable : 
 What private griefs '^ they have, alas, I know not. 
 That made them do it : they are wise and honourable, 
 And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
 
 1 Statua, for statue, is common among the old writers. 
 » Was successful. 3 Impression. * Grievances. 
 
Julius Ccesar. 105 
 
 I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts : 
 
 I am no orator, as Brutus is ; 
 
 But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man. 
 
 That love my friend ; and that they know full well 
 
 That gave me public leave to speak of him : 
 
 For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
 
 Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 
 
 To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; 
 
 I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; 
 
 Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb 
 
 mouths, 
 And bid them speak for me : but were I Brutus, 
 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
 Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue 
 In every wound of Caesar that Should move 
 The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 CEREMONY INSINCERE. 
 
 Ever note, Lucilius, 
 When love begins to sicken and decay. 
 It useth an enforced ceremony. 
 There are no tricks in plain and simple faith ; 
 But hollow men, like horses hot at hand. 
 Make gallant show and promise of their mettle ; 
 But when they should endure the bloody spur. 
 They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, 
 Sink in the trial. 
 
io6 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 THE TENT SCENE BETWEEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 
 
 Cassius. That you have wrongM me doth appear 
 in this : 
 You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella 
 For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 
 Wherein my letters, praying on his side, 
 Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 
 
 Brutus. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a 
 case. 
 
 Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet 
 That every nice^ offence should bear his comment. 
 
 Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
 Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm ; 
 To sell and mart your 'offices for gold 
 To undeservers. 
 
 Cas. I an itching palm ! 
 
 You know that you are Brutus that speak this. 
 Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 
 
 Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corrup- 
 tion. 
 And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 
 
 Cas. Chastisement ! 
 
 Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remem- 
 ber: 
 Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake .'* 
 What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
 And not for justice? What, shall one of us, 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world 
 
 1 Trifling. 
 
Julius Ccesar, 107 
 
 But for supporting robbers, shall we now 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honours 
 For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
 I had rather be a dog, and bay ^ the moon, 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, bay not me ; 
 
 I Ul not endure it : you forget yourself, 
 To hedge me in ; '^ I am a soldier, I, 
 Older in practice, abler than yourself 
 To make conditions. ^ 
 
 Bru. Go to ; you are not, Cassius. 
 
 Cas. I am. 
 
 Bru. I say you are not. 
 
 Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; 
 Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther. 
 
 Bru. Away, slight man ! 
 
 Cas. Is 't possible ? 
 
 Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
 
 Must I give way and room to your rash choler? 
 Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? 
 
 Cas. O ye gods, ye gods ! Must I endure all 
 this? 
 
 Bru. All this ! ay, more : fret till your proud 
 heart break ; 
 Go show your slaves how choleric you are, 
 And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? 
 Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch 
 Under your testy humour? By the gods, 
 
 1 Bait, bark at. 2 Limit my authority. 
 
 ' Terms, fit to confer the offices at my disposal. 
 
io8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, 
 I '11 use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter. 
 When you are waspish. 
 
 Cas. Is it come to this? 
 
 Br?^. You say you are a better soldier : 
 Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true. 
 And it shall please me well : for mine own part, 
 I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
 
 Cas. You wrong me every way ; you wrong me, 
 Brutus ; 
 1 said, an elder soldier, not a better : 
 Did I say ' better'? 
 
 Bru. If you did, I care not. 
 
 Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have 
 moved me. 
 
 Bru. Peace, peace ! you durst not so have tempted 
 him. 
 
 Cas. . I durst not ! 
 
 Bru. No. 
 
 Cas. What, durst not tempt him ! 
 
 Bru. For your life you durst not. 
 
 Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; 
 I may do that I shall be sorry for. 
 
 Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for 
 There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, 
 For I am arm'd so strong in honesty 
 That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
 Which I respect not. I did send to you 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me : 
 For I can raise no money by vile means : 
 
Julius Ccesar. 109 
 
 By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
 
 And drop my blood for drachmas,' than to wring 
 
 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash 
 
 By any indirection : I did send 
 
 To you for gold to pay my legions. 
 
 Which you denied me : was that done like Cassius? 
 
 Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? 
 
 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. 
 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
 
 Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts ; 
 
 Dash him to pieces ! 
 
 . Cas. I denied you not. 
 
 Bru. You did. 
 
 Cas. I did not : he was but a fool 
 
 That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived ' 
 
 my heart : 
 A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, 
 But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 
 
 Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. 
 
 Cas. You love me not. 
 
 Bru. I do not like your faults. 
 
 Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 
 
 Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do ap- 
 pear 
 As huge as high Olympus. 
 
 Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come. 
 Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
 For Cassius is aweary of the world ; 
 Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; 
 
 1 Coin. * Split. 
 
no Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Check'd like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
 
 Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote, 
 
 To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
 
 My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger, 
 
 And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
 
 Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: 
 
 If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 
 
 I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: 
 
 Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know, 
 
 When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him 
 
 better 
 Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. 
 
 Bru. Sheathe your dagger : 
 
 Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ; 
 Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. 
 O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 
 That carries anger as the flint bears fire ; 
 Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
 And straight is cold again. 
 
 Cas. Hath Cassius lived 
 
 To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
 When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him? 
 
 Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. 
 
 Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your 
 hand. 
 
 Bru. And my heart too. 
 
 Cas. O Brutus ! 
 
 Bru. What 's the matter? 
 
 Cas. Have not you love enough to bear with me, 
 When that rash humour which my mother gave me 
 Makes me forgetful? 
 
Julius Ccesar. m 
 
 Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and, from henceforth, 
 
 When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
 He 11 think your mother chides, and leave you so. 
 
 Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. 
 Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, 
 If you give place to accidental evils. 
 
 Bru. No man bears sorrow better. Portia is 
 
 dead. 
 Cas. Ha! Portia! 
 Bru. She is dead. 
 Cas. How 'scaped I killing when I crossed you so ? 
 
 insupportable and touching loss ! 
 Upon what sickness ? 
 
 Bru. Impatient of my absence. 
 
 And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony 
 Have made themselves so strong : — for with her 
 
 death 
 That tidings came; — with this she fell distract, 
 And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. 
 
 Cas. And died so? 
 
 Bru. Even so. 
 
 Cas. O ye immortal gods ! 
 
 Enter Lucius, with Wine and Taper. 
 
 Bru. Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of 
 wine. 
 In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. 
 
 Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. 
 Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup ; 
 
 1 cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. 
 
112 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 OPPORTUNITY TO' BE SEIZED ON ALL OCCASIONS 
 OF LIFE. 
 
 There is a tide in the aflfairs of men, 
 
 Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune i 
 
 Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
 
 Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 
 
 On such a full sea are we now afloat ; 
 
 And we must take the current when it serves, 
 
 Or lose our ventures. 
 
 CiESAR'S GHOST APPEARING TO BRUTUS. 
 
 How ill this taper burns ! Ha ! who comes here ? 
 
 I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 
 
 That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
 
 It comes upon me. Art thou any thing? 
 
 Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, 
 
 That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare ? 
 
 Speak to me what thou art. 
 
 Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. 
 
 Brutus. Why comest thou ? 
 
 Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. 
 
 Bru. Well; then I shall see thee again? 
 
 Ghost. Ay, at Philippi. 
 
 Bru. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. 
 
 \_Exit Ghost. 
 Now I have taken heart thou vanishest : 
 111 spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. 
 Boy, Lucius ! Varro ! Claudius ! sirs, awake ! Clau- 
 dius ! 
 
Julius CcBsar, 113 
 
 Lucius. The strings, my lord, afe false. 
 
 Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument. 
 LaicIus, awake ! 
 
 Luc. My lord ? 
 
 Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so 
 criedst out? 
 
 Luc. My lord, I do not know that I did cry. 
 
 Bru. Yes, that thou didst : didst thou see any 
 thing ? 
 
 Luc. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius ! 
 \To Varro.'\ Fellow thou, awake ! 
 
 Varro. My lord? 
 
 Claudius. My lord? 
 
 Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? 
 
 Var. Clau. Did we, my lord? 
 
 Bru. Ay: saw you any thing? 
 
 Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing. 
 
 Clau. Nor I, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Go and commend me to my brother Cassius ; 
 Bid him set on his powers betimes before. 
 And we will follow. 
 
 Var. Clau. It shall be done, my lord. 
 
114 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 THE PARTING OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 
 
 Brutus. No, Cassius, no : think not, thou noble 
 Roman, 
 That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome ; 
 He bears too great a mind. But this same day 
 Must end that work the ides of March begun ; 
 And whether we shall meet again I know not. 
 Therefore our everlasting farewell take : 
 For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius ! 
 If we do meet again, why, we shall smile ; 
 If not, why then, this parting was well made. 
 
 Cassius. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus ! 
 If we do meet again, we '11 smile indeed ; 
 If not, 't is true this parting was well made. 
 
 Bru. Why, then, lead on. O, that a man might 
 know 
 The end of this day's business ere it come ! 
 But it sufficeth that the day will end. 
 And then the end is known. 
 
 MELANCHOLY, THE PARENT OF ERROR. 
 
 O hateful error, melancholy's child. 
 
 Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men 
 
 The things that are not? O error, soon conceived, 
 
 Thou never comest unto a happy birth. 
 
 But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee ! 
 
Julius Ccesar, 115 
 
 ANTONY'S CHARACTER OF BRUTUS. 
 
 This was the noblest Roman of them all : 
 
 All the conspirators save only he 
 
 Did that they did in envy of great Cassar ; 
 
 He only, in a general honest thought 
 
 And common good to all, made one of them. 
 
 Kis life was gentle, and the elements 
 
 no mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up 
 
 And say to all the world ' This was a man ! ' 
 
KING LEAR. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 A father's anger. 
 
 Let it be so ; thy truth, then, be thy dower: 
 
 For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, 
 
 The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; 
 
 By all the operation of the orbs 
 
 From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; 
 
 Here I disclaim all my paternal care. 
 
 Propinquity ' and property of blood. 
 
 And as a stranger to my heart and me 
 
 Hold thee, from this,* for ever. The barbarous 
 
 Scythian, 
 Or he that makes his generation ^ messes 
 To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 
 Be as well neighboured, pitied, and relieved, 
 As thou my sometime daughter. 
 
 BASTARDY. 
 
 Thou, nature, art my goddess ; to thy law 
 My services are bound. Wherefore should I 
 Stand in the plague * of custom, and permit 
 
 1 Kindred. * From this time. 
 
 » His children. * The injustice. 
 
King Lear. 117 
 
 The curiosity ' of nations to deprive me, 
 
 For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines 
 
 Lag of a brother ? Why bastard ? wherefore base ? 
 
 When my dimensions are as well compact, 
 
 My mind as generous, and my shape as true. 
 
 As honest madam's issue ? Why brand they us 
 
 With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? 
 
 Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
 
 More composition and fierce quality 
 
 Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, 
 
 Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, 
 
 Got 'tween asleep and wake? 
 
 ASTROLOGY RIDICULED. 
 
 This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, 
 when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of 
 our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters 
 the sun, the moon, and the stars : as if we were 
 villains by necessity ; fools by heavenly compulsion ; 
 knaves, thieves, and treachers,^ by spherical predomi- 
 nance ; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an en- 
 forced obedience of planetary influence ; and all that 
 we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on : an admirable 
 evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish dis- 
 position to the charge of a star ! My father com- 
 pounded with my mother under the dragon's tail ; and 
 my nativity was under Ursa major ; ^ so that it follows, 
 I am rough and lecherous. Tut, I should have been 
 
 1 The nicety of civil institution. * Traitors. 
 
 s Great Bear, the constellation so named. 
 
ii8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament 
 twinkled on my bastardizing. 
 
 FILIAL INGRATITUDE. 
 
 Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, 
 
 More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child 
 
 Than the sea-monster ! 
 
 A father's curse on his child. 
 
 Hear, nature, hear; 
 Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if 
 Thou didst intend to make this creature fiaiitfiil ! 
 Into her womb convey sterility ! 
 Dry up in her the organs of increase ; 
 And from her derogate ^ body never spring 
 A babe to honour her ! If she must teem, 
 Create her child of spleen ; that it may live. 
 And be a thwart disnatured torment to her ! 
 Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ; 
 With cadent ^ tears fret channels in her cheeks ; 
 Turn all her mother's pains and benefits 
 To laughter and contempt ; that she may feel 
 How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
 To have a thankless child ! 
 
 » Degraded. » Falling. 
 
King Lear. 119 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 FLATTERING SYCOPHANTS. 
 
 That such a slave as this should wear a sword, 
 Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as 
 
 these, 
 Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain 
 Which are too intrinse i t' unloose ; smooth every 
 
 passion 
 That in the natures of their lords rebel ; 
 Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods ; 
 Renege, 2 affirm, and turn their halcyon 3 beaks 
 With every gale and vary of their masters, 
 Knowing nought, like dogs, but following. 
 
 A PLAIN BLUNT MAN. 
 
 This is some fellow, 
 Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect 
 A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb 
 Quite from his nature : he cannot flatter, he. 
 An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth ! 
 An they will take it, so ; if not, he 's plain. 
 These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain- 
 ness 
 Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends 
 
 1 Perplexed. 2 Disown. 
 
 8 The bird called the king-fisher, which, when dried and hung 
 np by a thread, is supposed to turn his bill to the point from 
 whence the wind blows. 
 
120 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Than twenty silly ^ ducking observants 
 That stretch their duties nicely. 
 
 BEDLAM BEGGARS. 
 
 Whiles I may 'scape, 
 I will preserve myself: and am bethought 
 To take the basest and most poorest shape 
 That ever penury, in contempt of man, 
 Brought near to beast : my face I '11 grime with filth ; 
 Blanket my loins ; elf ^ all my hair in knots ; 
 And with presented nakedness out-face 
 The winds and persecutions of the sky. 
 The country gives me proof and precedent 
 Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, 
 Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
 Pins, wooden pricks, ^ nails, sprigs of rosemary ; 
 And with this horrible object, from low farms, 
 Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills, 
 Sometime with lunatic bans,* sometime with prayers, 
 Enforce their charity. 
 
 THE FAULTS OF INFIRMITY PARDONABLE. 
 
 Fiery ? the fiery duke ? Tell the hot duke that — • 
 No, but not yet : may be he is not well : 
 Infirmity doth still neglect all office 
 Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves 
 
 1 Simple or rustic. 
 
 2 Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of elves and 
 fairies in the night. 
 
 » Skewers. « Curses. 
 
King Lear. 121 
 
 When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind 
 
 To suffer with the body : I Ul forbear ; 
 
 And am falPn out with my more headier will, 
 
 To take the indisj)osed and sickly fit 
 
 For the sound man. 
 
 UNKINDNESS. 
 
 Thy sister 's naught : O Regan, she hath tied 
 Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here. 
 
 [Points to his heart. 
 
 OFFENCES MISTAKLN. 
 
 All 's not offence that indiscretion finds 
 And dotage terms so. 
 
 RISING PASSION. 
 
 I prythee, daughter, do not make me mad : 
 
 I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell : 
 
 We '11 no more meet, no more see one another : 
 
 But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter ; 
 
 Or rather a disease that 's in my flesh. 
 
 Which I must needs call mine : thou art a boil, 
 
 A plague-sore, an embossed ' carbuncle, 
 
 In my corrupted blood. But I '11 not chide thee ; 
 
 Let shame come when it will, I do not call it : 
 
 I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot. 
 
 Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. 
 
 * Swelling. 
 
122 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 THE NECESSARIES OF LIFE FEW. 
 
 O, reason not the need : our basest beggars 
 Are in the poorest thing superfluous : 
 Allow not nature more than nature needs^ 
 Man's life 's as cheap as beast's. 
 
 LEAR ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HIS DAUGHTERS. 
 
 You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 
 
 As full of grief as age ; wretched in both ! 
 
 If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts 
 
 Against their father, fool me not so much 
 
 To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger. 
 
 And let not women's weapons, water-drops. 
 
 Stain my man's cheeks ! No, you unnatural hags, 
 
 I will have such revenges on you both, 
 
 That all the world shall — I will do such things, — 
 
 What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be 
 
 The terrors of the earth. You think I '11 weep ; 
 
 No, I '11 not weep : 
 
 I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart 
 
 Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws. 
 
 Or ere I '11 weep. O fool, I shall go mad ! 
 
 WILFUL MEN. 
 
 O, sir, to wilful men, 
 The injuries that they themselves procure 
 Must be their schoolmasters. 
 
King Lear, 123 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 leak's distress in the storm. 
 
 Kent. Where 's the king? 
 
 Gentleman. Contending with the fretful element ; 
 Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 
 Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, 
 That things might change or cease ; tears his white 
 
 hair. 
 Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 
 Catch in their fury, and make nothing of; 
 Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
 The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. 
 This night, wherein the cub-drawn ' bear would 
 
 couch, 
 The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
 Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, 
 And bids what will take all. 
 
 LEAR'S EXCLAMATIONS IN THE TEMPEST. 
 
 Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow ! 
 
 You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout 
 
 Till you have drenched our steeples, drown'd the 
 
 cocks ! 
 You sulphurous and thought-executing ^ fires. 
 Vaunt couriers ^ to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, 
 
 1 Whose dugs are drawn dry by its young-. 
 
 •Quick as thought. ^ Avant couriers, French. 
 
124 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking 
 
 thunder, 
 Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! 
 Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once, 
 That make ingrateful man ! 
 
 Rumble thy bellyful ! Spit, fire ! spout, rain ! 
 Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters : 
 I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness ; 
 I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children. 
 You owe me no subscription : ^ then let fall 
 Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand, your slave, 
 A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man : 
 But yet I call you servile ministers. 
 That have with two pernicious daughters join'd 
 Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head 
 So old and white as this. O ! O ! 'tis foul ! 
 
 Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? things that love 
 night 
 Love not such nights as these ; the wrathfiil skies 
 Gallow ^ the very wanderers of the dark. 
 And make them keep their caves : since I was man, 
 Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, 
 Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
 Remember to have heard : man's nature cannot carry 
 The affliction nor the fear. 
 
 Z^ar. Let the great gods, 
 
 That keep this dreadful pother ^ o'er our heads, 
 
 * Obedience. 'Scare or frighten. s Blustering noise. 
 
King Lear, 125 
 
 Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, 
 That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
 Unwhipp'd of justice : hide thee, thou bloody hand ; 
 Thou perjured, and thou simular ^ man of virtue 
 That art incestuous : caitiff, to pieces shake, 
 That under covert and convenient seeming « 
 Hast practised on man's life : close pent-up guilts, 
 Rive your concealing continents, and cry 
 These dreadful summoners grace. ^ I am a man 
 More sinn'd against than sinning. 
 
 Kent. Alack, bare-headed ! 
 
 Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel ; 
 Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. 
 
 Lear. Thou think'st 't is much that this conten- 
 tious storm 
 Invades us to the skin : so 't is to thee ; 
 But where the greater malady is fix'd, 
 The lesser is scarce felt. Thou 'Idst shun a bear ; 
 But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, 
 Thou 'Idst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the 
 
 mind 's free 
 The body 's delicate : the tempest in my mind 
 Doth from my senses take all feeling else 
 Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude ! 
 Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand 
 For lifting food to 't ? But I will punish home : 
 No, I will weep no more. In such a night 
 To shut me out ! Pour on ; I will endure. 
 
 1 Counterfeit. 2 Appearance. 8 Favour. 
 
.126 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 In such a night as this ! O Regan, Goneril ! 
 Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all, — 
 O, that way madness lies ; let me shun that ; 
 No more of that. 
 
 Kent. Good my lord, enter here. 
 
 Lear. Prythee, go in thyself; seek thine own 
 ease : 
 This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 
 On things would hurt me more. But I '11 go in. 
 \To the Fool.'] In, boy; go first. You houseless 
 
 poverty, — 
 Nay, get thee in. I '11 pray, and then I '11 sleep. 
 
 [Fool goes in. 
 Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, 
 That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
 How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, 
 Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you 
 From seasons such as these? 0,1 have ta'en 
 Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; 
 Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel. 
 That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, 
 And show the heavens more just. 
 
 Enter Edgar, disguised as a Madman. 
 
 Edgar. Away ! the foul fiend follows me ! 
 Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. 
 Hum ! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 
 
 Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughters ? 
 And art thou come to this ? 
 
King Lear. 127 
 
 Didst thou sfive them all? 
 
 Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air 
 Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters ! 
 
 Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. 
 
 Lear. Death, traitor ! nothing could have subdued 
 nature 
 To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. 
 Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers 
 Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? 
 Judicious punishment ! 't was this flesh begot 
 Those pelican daughters. 
 
 ON MAN. 
 
 Is man no more than this? Consider him well. 
 Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the 
 sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha ! here 's 
 three on 's are sophisticated ! Thou art the thing 
 itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a 
 poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off", off", you 
 lendings ! 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 THE JUSTICE OF PROVIDENCE. 
 
 That I am wretched 
 Makes thee the happier : heavens, deal so still ! 
 Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, 
 
128 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That slaves your ordinance, i that will not see 
 Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly ; 
 So distribution should undo excess, 
 And each man have enough. 
 
 PATIENCE AND SORROW. 
 
 Patience and sorrow strove 
 Who should express her goodliest. You have seen 
 Sunshine and rain at once : her smiles and tears 
 Were like a better way : those happy smilets, 
 That playM on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
 What guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence, 
 As pearls from diamonds dropped. In brief, sorrow 
 Would be a rarity most beloved, if all 
 Could so become it. 
 
 lear's distraction described. 
 
 Alack, 't is he : why, he was met even now 
 As mad as the vex'd sea ; singing aloud ; 
 Crown'd with rank fumiter^ and furrow-weeds. 
 With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, 
 Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 
 In our sustaining corn. 
 
 description of DOVER CLIFF. 
 
 Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How 
 fearful 
 
 1 i.e. To make it subject to us, instead of acting in obedience 
 to it. ' Fumitory. 
 
King Lear. 129 
 
 And dizzy 't is, to cast one's eyes so low ! 
 The crows and choughs ^ that wing the midway air 
 Show scarce so gross as beetles : half way down 
 Hangs one that gathers samphire,^ dreadful trade ! 
 Methinks he seems no bigger than his head : 
 The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
 Appear like mice ; and yond tall anchoring bark, 
 Diminished to her cock ; ^ her cock, a buoy 
 Almost too small for sight : the murmuring surge, 
 That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes. 
 Cannot be heard so high. I '11 look no more ,* 
 Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
 Topple ^ down headlong. 
 
 GLOSTER'S FAREWELL TO THE WORLD. 
 
 O you mighty gods ! 
 This world I do renounce, and, in your sights, 
 Shake patiently my great affliction off: 
 If I could bear it longer, and not fall 
 To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, 
 My snuff and loathed part of nature should 
 Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him ! 
 
 LEAR ON HIS FLATTERERS. 
 
 They flattered me like a dog ; and told me I had 
 white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were 
 there. To say *ay' and 'no' to everything that I 
 
 1 Daws. « A vegetable gathered for pickling. 
 
 » Her cock-boat. 'Tumble. 
 
13© Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 said ! — ' Ay ' and ' no ' too was no good divinity. 
 When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind 
 to make .me chatter ; when the thunder would not 
 peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I 
 smelt 'em out. Go to, they are not men o' their 
 words: they told me I was everything; 'tis a lie, 
 I am not ague-proof. 
 
 ON THE ABUSE OF POWER. 
 
 Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand ! 
 
 Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine own 
 
 back; 
 Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind 
 For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the 
 
 cozener. 
 Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ; 
 Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with 
 
 gold. 
 And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; 
 Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it. 
 None does offend, none, I say, none ; I '11 able 'em : 
 Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
 To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes ; 
 And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
 To see the things thou dost not. 
 
 CORDELIA ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HER SISTERS. 
 
 O my dear father ! Restoration hang 
 Thy medicine on my lips ; and let this kiss 
 
King Lear. 131 
 
 Repair those violent harms that my two sisters 
 Have in thy reverence made ! 
 
 Had you not been their father, these white flakes 
 Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face 
 To be opposed against the warring winds? 
 To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? 
 In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
 Of quick, cross lightning? 
 
 And wast thou fain, poor father. 
 To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn. 
 In short and musty straw? Alack, alack! 
 'T is wonder that thy life and wits at once 
 Had not concluded all. 
 
 SCENE BETWEEN LEAR AND CORDELIA. 
 
 Cordelia. How does my royal lord? How fares 
 
 your majesty? 
 Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' the 
 grave : 
 Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound 
 Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 
 Do scald like molten lead. 
 
 Cor. Sir, do you know me? 
 
 Lear. You are a spirit, I know : when did you die ? 
 Cor. Still, still, far wide ! 
 
 Doctor. He 's scarce awake : let him alone awhile. 
 Lear. Where have I been ? Where am I ? Fair 
 daylight ? 
 
132 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity, 
 To see another thus. I know not what to say. 
 I will not swear these are my hands : let 's see ; 
 I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured 
 Of my condition ! 
 
 Cor. O, look upon me, sir. 
 
 And hold your hands in benediction o'er me : 
 No, sir, you must not kneel. 
 
 Lear. Pray, do not mock me : 
 
 I am a very foolish fond old man. 
 Fourscore and upward. 
 
 Not an hour more nor less ; and, to deal plainly, 
 I fear I am not in my perfect mind. 
 Methinks I should know you, and know this man ; 
 Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant 
 What place this is ; and all the skill I have 
 Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not 
 Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me ; 
 For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
 To be my child Cordelia. 
 
 Cor. And so I am, I am. 
 
 Lear. Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, 
 weep not : 
 If you have poison for me, I will drink it. 
 I know you do not love me ; for your sisters 
 Have, as I do remember, done me wrong : 
 You have some cause, they have not. 
 
 Cor. No cause, no cause. 
 
 Lear. Am I in France ? 
 
 Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. 
 
 Lear. Do not abuse me. 
 
King Lear. 133 
 
 Doct. Be comforted, good madam : the great rage, 
 You see, is kill'd in him : and yet it is danger 
 To make him even ' o'er the time he has lost. 
 Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more 
 Till further settling. 
 
 Cor. Will 't please your highness walk? 
 
 Lear. You must bear with me : 
 
 Pray you now, forget and forgive : I am old and 
 
 foolish. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 LEAR TO CORDELIA WHEN TAKEN PRISONERS. 
 
 No, no, no, no ! Come, let 's away to prison : 
 We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage : 
 When thou dost ask me blessing, I '11 kneel down, 
 And ask of thee forgiveness : so we '11 live. 
 And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
 At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
 Talk of court news ; and we '11 talk with them too, 
 Who loses and who wins ; who 's in, who 's out ; 
 And take upon 's the mystery of things, 
 As if we were God's spies : and we '11 wear out. 
 In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, 
 That ebb and flow by the moon, 
 
 Edmund. Take them away. 
 
 Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 
 The gods themselves throw incense. 
 
 1 To reconcile it to his apprehension. 
 
134 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 THE JUSTICE OF THE GODS. 
 
 The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
 Make instruments to plague us. 
 
 EDGAR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS DISCOVERING HIMSELF 
 TO HIS FATHER. 
 
 List ' a brief tale ; 
 And when 't is told, O, that my heart would burst ! 
 The bloody proclamation to escape, 
 That follow'd me so near, — O, our lives' sweetness ! 
 That we the pain of death would hourly die 
 Rather than die at once ! — taught me to shift 
 Into a madman's rags ; to assume a semblance 
 That very dogs disdain'd : and in this habit 
 Met I my father with his bleeding rings, 
 Their precious stones new lost ; became his guide, 
 Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair; 
 Never, — O fault ! — reveal'd myself unto him, 
 Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd : 
 Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
 I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last 
 Told him my pilgrimage : but his flaw'd heart, 
 Alack, too weak the conflict to support ! 
 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief. 
 Burst smilingly. 
 
 Edmund. This speech of yours hath moved me, 
 And shall perchance do good : but speak you on ; 
 You look as you had something more to say. 
 
 1 Hear. 
 
King Lear. 135 
 
 Albany. If there be more, more woeful, hold it in ; 
 For I am almost ready to dissolve, 
 Hearing of this. 
 
 Edgar. This would have seem'd a period 
 
 To such as love not sorrow ; but another, 
 To amplify too much, would make much more, 
 And top extremity. 
 
 Whilst I was big in clamour came therein a man, 
 Who, having seen me in my worst estate, 
 Shunned my abhorr'd society ; but then, finding 
 Who 't was that so endured, with his strong arms 
 He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out 
 As he 'Id burst heaven ; threw him on my father ; 
 Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him 
 That ever ear received : which in recounting 
 His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 
 Began to crack : twice then the trumpet sounded, 
 And there I left him tranced. 
 
 LEAR ON THE DEATH OF CORDELIA. 
 
 Howl, howl, howl, howl ! O, you are men of stones : 
 Had I your tongues and eyes, I 'Id use them so 
 That heaven's vault should crack. She 's gone for 
 
 ever 
 
 I know when one is dead, and when one lives ; 
 She 's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass ; 
 If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, 
 Why, then she lives. 
 
 This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so, 
 
136 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows 
 That ever I have felt. 
 
 Kent. [Kneeling.'] O my good master ! 
 
 Lear. Pry thee, away. 
 
 A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all ! 
 
 I might have saved her ; now she 's gone for ever ! 
 
 Cordelia, Cordelia ! stay a little. Ha ! 
 
 What is 't thou say'st ? Her voice was ever soft, 
 
 Gentle and low. 
 
 LEAR DYING. 
 
 And my poor fool ^ is hanged ! No, no, no life ! 
 Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 
 And thou no breath at all? Thou 'It come no more. 
 Never, never, never, never, never !• 
 
 1 Poor fool, in the time of Shakspeare, was an expression of 
 endearment. 
 
MACBETH. 
 ACT I. 
 
 WITCHES DESCRIBED. 
 
 What are these 
 So withered and so wild in their attire, 
 That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, 
 And yet are on 't ? Live you ? or are you aught 
 That man may question? You seem to understand 
 
 me, 
 By each at once her choppy finger laying 
 Upon her skinny lips : you should be women, - 
 And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
 That you are so. 
 
 macbeth's temper. 
 
 Yet do I fear thy nature ; 
 It is too full o' the milk of human kindness 
 To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; 
 Art not without ambition, but without 
 The illness should attend it : what thou wouldst 
 
 highly, 
 That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, 
 And yet wouldst wrongly win. 
 
138 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 LADY MACBETH'S SOLILOQUY ON THE NEWS OF DUN- 
 CAN'S APPROACH. 
 
 The raven himself is hoarse 
 That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
 Under my battlements. Come, you spirits 
 That tend on mortal' thoughts, unsex me here, 
 And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full 
 Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood ; 
 Stop up the access and passage to remorse, ^ 
 That no compunctious visitings of nature 
 Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
 The effect and it ! Come to my woman's breasts, 
 And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers. 
 Wherever in your sightless substances 
 You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, 
 And pall ^ thee in the dunnest smoke of hell. 
 That my keen knife * see not the wound it makes, 
 Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 
 To cry ♦ Hold, hold ! ' 
 
 macbeth's irresolution. 
 
 If it were done when 't is done, then 't were well 
 It were done quickly: if the assassination 
 Could trammel up the consequence, and catch 
 With his surcease success ; that but this blow 
 Might be the be-all and the end-all here. 
 But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, 
 
 1 Murderous. 2 Pity. 3 Wrap, as in a mantle. 
 
 * Knife anciently meant a sword or dagger. 
 
Macbeth. 139 
 
 We 'Id jump the life to come. But in these cases 
 We still have judgment here ; that we but teach 
 Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
 To plague the inventor : this even-handed justice 
 Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
 To our own lips. He 's here in double trust ; 
 First, as I am his kinsman and his subject. 
 Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, 
 Who should against his murderer shut the door. 
 Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan 
 Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
 So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
 Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against 
 The deep damnation of his taking-off; 
 And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
 Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed 
 Upon the sightless couriers * of the air. 
 Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye. 
 That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur 
 To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
 Vaulting ambition, which overleaps itself 
 And falls on the other. 
 
 TRUE FORTITUDE. 
 
 I dare do all that may become a man ; 
 Who dares do more is none. 
 
 1 Winds ; sightless is invisible. 
 
140 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 THE MURDERING SCENE. 
 
 Is this a dagger which I see before me, 
 
 The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch 
 
 thee. 
 I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 
 Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
 To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but 
 A dagger of the mind, a false creation. 
 Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? 
 I see thee yet, in form as palpable 
 As this which now I draw. 
 Thou marshairst me the way that I was going ; 
 And such an instrument I was to use. 
 Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses. 
 Or else worth all the rest ; I see thee still, 
 And on thy blade and dudgeon^ gouts ^ of blood, 
 Which was not so before. There 's no such thing : 
 It is the bloody business which informs 
 Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world 
 Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
 The curtained sleep ; witchcraft celebrates 
 Pale Hecate's offerings, and withered murder, 
 Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 
 Whose howl 's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. 
 With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design 
 Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, 
 
 iHaft. . a Drops. 
 
Macbeth, 141 
 
 Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
 Thy very stones prate of my whereabout. 
 And take the present horror from the time, 
 Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives : 
 Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. 
 
 [_A bell rings. 
 I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. 
 Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell 
 That summons thee to heaven or to hell. \_Exit. 
 Enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady Macbeth. That which hath made them drunk 
 hath made me bold ; 
 What hath quench'd them hath given me fire. 
 
 Hark ! Peace ! 
 It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, 
 Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it : 
 The doors are open ; and the surfeited grooms 
 Do mock their charge with snores : I have drugg'd 
 
 their possets. 
 That death and nature do contend about them. 
 Whether they live or die. 
 
 Macbeth, \}Vithin.'\ Who's there? What, ho ! 
 
 Lady M. Alack ! I am afraid they have awaked. 
 And 't is not done. The attempt and not the deed 
 Confounds us. Hark ! I laid their daggers ready ; 
 He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled 
 My father as he slept, I had done 't. 
 Enter Macbeth. 
 
 My husband ! 
 
 Macb. I have done the deed. Didst thou not 
 hear a noise ? 
 
142 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Lady M. I heard the owl scream and the crickets 
 cry. 
 Did not you speak? 
 
 Macb. When ? 
 
 Lady M. Now. 
 
 Macb. As I descended? 
 
 Lady M. Ay. 
 
 Macb. Hark! 
 Who lies i' the second chamber? 
 
 Z^dy M. Donalbain. 
 
 Macb. This is a sorry sight. 
 
 \Looking on his hands. 
 
 Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. 
 
 Macb. There 's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one 
 cried ' Murder ! ' 
 That they did wake each other : I stood and heard 
 
 them : 
 But they did say their prayers, and address'd them 
 Again to sleep. 
 
 Lady M. There are two lodged together. 
 
 Macb. One cried ' God bless us ! ' and ' Amen ' 
 the other ; 
 As ' they had seen me with these hangman's hands. 
 Listening their fear, I could not say * Amen,' 
 When they did say ' God bless us ! ' 
 
 Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. 
 
 Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce 
 Amen'? 
 I had most need of blessing, and * Amen ' 
 Stuck in my throat. 
 
 1 As if. 
 
Macbeth, 143 
 
 Lady M. These deeds must not be thought 
 
 After these ways ; so, it will make us mad. 
 
 Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry ' Sleep no 
 more ! 
 Macbeth does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep, 
 Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave * of care. 
 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
 Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. 
 Chief nourisher in life's feast, — 
 
 Lady M. What do you mean ? 
 
 Macb. Still it cried ' Sleep no more ! ' to all the 
 house : 
 • Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor 
 Shall sleep no more ; Macbeth shall sleep no more ! ' 
 
 Lady M. Who was it that thus cried ? Why, 
 worthy thane, 
 You do unbend your noble strength, to think 
 So brainsickly of things. Go get some water. 
 And wash this filthy witness from your hand. 
 Why did you bring these daggers from the place ? 
 They must lie there : go carry them ; and smear 
 The sleepy grooms with blood. 
 
 Macb. I 'II go no more : 
 
 I am afraid to think what I have done ; 
 Look on 't again I dare not. 
 
 Lady M. Infirm of purpose ! 
 
 Give me the daggers : the sleeping and the dead 
 Are but as pictures : 't is the eye of childhood 
 That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, 
 
 1 Sleave is unwrought silk. 
 
144 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 I '11 gild the faces of the grooms withal ; 
 For it must seem their guilt. 
 
 \_Exit . Knocking within . 
 
 Macb. Whence is that knocking? 
 
 How is 't with me, when every noise appals me? 
 What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine 
 
 eyes. 
 Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
 Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather 
 The multitudinous seas incarnardine,i 
 Making the green one red. 
 
 Re-enter Lady Macbeth. 
 
 Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I 
 shame 
 To wear a heart so white. \Knockitig within. '\ I 
 
 hear a knocking 
 At the south entry : retire we to our chamber : 
 A little water clears us of this deed : 
 How easy is it, then ! Your constancy 
 Hath left you unattended. {Knocking within. '\ 
 
 Hark ! more knocking. 
 Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, 
 And show us to be watchers. Be not lost 
 So poorly in your thoughts. 
 
 Macb. To know my deed, 't were best not know 
 
 myself. \Knocking within . 
 
 Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou 
 
 couldst ! 
 
 1 To incarnardine is to stain of a flesh colour. 
 
Macbeth, 14S 
 
 ACT III. 
 macbeth's guilty conscience, and fears of 
 
 BANQUO. 
 
 Lady Macbeth. How now, my Lord ! why do you 
 keep alone. 
 Of sorriest^ fancies your companions making. 
 Using those thoughts which should indeed have died 
 With them they think on? Things without all 
 
 remedy 
 Should be without regard : what 's done is done. 
 
 Macbeth. We have scotch'd the snake, not kilPd 
 it: 
 She '11 close and be herself, whilst our poor malice 
 Remains in danger of her former tooth. 
 But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds 
 
 suffer, 
 Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep 
 In the affliction of these terrible dreams 
 That shake us nightly : better be with the dead. 
 Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, 
 Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
 In restless ecstasy.^ Duncan is in his grave ; 
 After life's fitful fever he sleeps well ; 
 Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison, 
 Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, 
 Can touch him further. 
 
 1 Most melancholy. * Agony. 
 
146 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife ! 
 
 Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. 
 
 Lady M. But in them nature's copy ""s not eterne.* 
 
 Macb. There 's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; 
 Then be thou jocund : ere the bat hath flown 
 His cloisterM flight, ere to black Hecate's summons 
 The shard-borne beetle ^ with his drowsy hums 
 Hath rung nighfs yawning peal, there shall be done 
 A deed of dreadful note. 
 
 Lady M. What 's to be done ? 
 
 Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest 
 chuck, 3 
 Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling * night, 
 Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
 And with thy bloody and invisible hand 
 Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond 
 Which keeps me pale ! Light thickens ; and the 
 
 crow 
 Makes wing to the rooky wood : 
 Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; 
 Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse. 
 
 THE BANQUET SCENE. 
 
 Lady Macbeth. My royal lord, 
 
 You do not give the cheer : the feast is sold 
 That is not often vouch'd, while 't is a-making, 
 
 1 i.e. The copy, the lease, by which they hold their lives from 
 flature, has its time termination. 
 
 s The beetle borne in the air by its shards or scaly wings. 
 « A term of endearment. « Blinding. 
 
Macbeth. 147 
 
 'T is given with welcome : to feed were best at home ; 
 From thence the sauce- to meat is ceremony; 
 Meeting were bare without it. 
 
 Macbeth. Sweet remembrancer ! 
 
 Now, good digestion wait on appetite, 
 And health on both ! 
 
 Lennox. May 't please your highness sit. 
 
 \The Ghost of Banquo enters, and sits in Macbeth'' s 
 place. ^^ 
 
 Macb. Here had we now our country's honour 
 roof'd. 
 Were the graced person of our Banquo present ; 
 Who may I rather challenge for unkindness 
 Than pity for mischance ! 
 
 Ross. His absence, sir, 
 
 Lays blame upon his promise. Please 't your high- 
 ness 
 To grace us with your royal company. 
 
 Macb. The table 's full. 
 
 Len. Here 's a place reserved, sir. 
 
 Macb. Where? 
 
 Len. Here, my good lord. What is 't that moves 
 your highness? 
 
 Macb. Which of you have done this? 
 
 Lords. What, my good lord? 
 
 Macb. Thou canst not say I did it : never shake 
 Thy gory locks at me. 
 
 Ross. Gentlemen, rise : his highness is not well. 
 
 Lady M. Sit, worthy friends : my lord is often 
 thus, 
 
148 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And hath been from his youth : pray you, keep seat ; 
 The fit is momentary ; upon a thought 1 
 He will again be well : if much you note him, 
 You shall offend him and extend his passion : 2 
 Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man? 
 
 Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that 
 Which might appal the devil. 
 
 Lady M. O proper stuff ! 
 
 This is the very painting of your fear: 
 This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, 
 Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws ^ and starts, 
 Impostors to true fear, would well become 
 A woman's story at a winter's fire. 
 Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! 
 Why do you make such faces? When all 's done, 
 You look but on a stool. 
 
 Macb. Prythee, see there ! behold ! look ! lo ! how 
 say you? 
 Why, what care I ? If thou canst nod, speak too. 
 If charnel-houses and our graves must send 
 Those that we bury back, our monuments 
 Shall be the maws of kites. \Ghost vanishes. 
 
 Lady M. What, quite unmann'd in folly? 
 
 Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. 
 
 iMdy M. Fie, for shame ! 
 
 Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden 
 time, 
 Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal ; 
 Ay, and since too, murders have been performed 
 
 1 As quick as thought. 2 Prolong his suffering. 
 
 • Sudden gusts. 
 
Macbeth. 149 
 
 Too terrible for the ear : the time has been, 
 That, when the brains were out, the man would die. 
 And there an end ; but now they rise again, 
 With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 
 And push us from our stools : this is more strange 
 Than such a murder is. 
 
 Lady M. My worthy lord. 
 
 Your noble friends do lack you. 
 
 Macb. I do forget. 
 
 Do not muse ^ at me, my most worthy friends ; 
 I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing 
 To those that know me. Come, love and health to 
 
 all; 
 Then I '11 sit down. Give me some wine ; fill full. 
 I drink to the general joy o' the whole table, 
 And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss ; 
 Would he were here ! to all, and him, we thirst. 
 And all to all.^ 
 
 Lords. Our duties, and the pledge. 
 
 [Re-enter Ghost. 
 
 Macb. Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth 
 hide thee ! 
 Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; 
 Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
 Which thou dost glare with ! 
 
 Lady M. Think of this, good peers, 
 
 But as a thing of custom : 't is no other ; 
 Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. 
 
 Macb. What man dare, I dare : 
 
 1 Wonder. * i.e. All good wishes to all. 
 
ISO Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
 The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; 
 Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
 Shall never tremble : or be alive again, 
 And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; 
 If trembling I inhabit * then, protest me 
 The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! 
 Unreal mockery, hence ! \_Ghost vanishes. 
 
 Why, so : being gone, 
 I am a man again. Pray you, sit still. 
 
 Lady M. You have displaced the mirth, broke the 
 good meeting. 
 With most admired disorder. 
 
 Macb. Can such things be. 
 
 And overcome ^ us like a Summers's cloud. 
 Without our special wonder? You make me strange 
 Even to the disposition that I owe, 3 
 Whei now I think you can behold such sights. 
 And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks. 
 When mine is blanched with fear. 
 
 Ross. Wha sights, my lord? 
 
 Lady M. I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse 
 and worse ; 
 Question enrages him. At once, good night: 
 Stand not upon the order of your going. 
 But go at once. 
 
 Len. Good night; and better health 
 
 Attend his majesty ! 
 
 Lady M. A kind good night to all ! 
 
 \_Exeunt all but Macbeth and Lady M. 
 
 1 Forbid, 'Passover. 8 Possess. 
 
Macbeth, . 151 
 
 Macb. It will have blood; they say, blood will 
 have blood : 
 Stones have been known to move and trees to speak ; 
 Augurs and understood relations have 
 By magot-pies ^ and choughs and rooks brought forth 
 The secret'st man of blood. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 THE POWER OF WITCHES. 
 
 I conjure you, by that which you profess. 
 However you come to know it, answer me : 
 Though you untie the winds and let them fight 
 Against the churches ; though the yesty 2 waves 
 Confound and swallow navigation up ; 
 Though bladed corn be lodged 3 and trees blown 
 
 down; 
 Though castles topple ^ on their warders' heads ; 
 Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
 Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure 
 Of nature's germens ^ tumble all together, 
 Even till destruction sicken ; answer me 
 To what I ask you. 
 
 MALCOLM'S CHARACTER OF HIMSELF. 
 
 Malcolm. But I have none : the king-becoming 
 graces, 
 
 1 Magpies. « Frothy. 8 Laid flat by wind or rain. 
 
 * Tumble. ^ Seeds which have begun to sprout. 
 
152 , Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, 
 
 Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
 
 Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, 
 
 I have no relish of them, but abound 
 
 In the division of each several crime, 
 
 Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should 
 
 Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell. 
 
 Uproar the universal peace, confound 
 
 All unity on earth. 
 
 Macduff. O Scotland, Scotland ! 
 
 Mai. If such a one be fit to govern, speak : 
 I am as I have spoken. 
 
 Macd. Fit to govern ! 
 
 No, not to live. O nation miserable, 
 With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred. 
 When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again. 
 Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
 By his own interdiction stands accursed. 
 And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father 
 Was a most sainted king : the queen that bore thee, 
 Oftener upon her knees than on her feet. 
 Died every day she lived. Fare thee well ! 
 These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself 
 Have banishM me from Scotland. O my breast, 
 Thy hope ends here ! 
 
 Mai. Macduff, this noble passion, 
 
 Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
 Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts 
 To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth 
 By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
 Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me 
 
Macbeth, 153 
 
 From over-credulous haste : * But God above 
 
 Deal between thee and me ! for even now 
 
 I put myself to thy direction, and 
 
 Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure 
 
 The taints and blames I laid upon myself, 
 
 For strangers to my nature. I am yet 
 
 Unknown to woman, never was forsworn. 
 
 Scarcely have coveted what was mine own. 
 
 At no time broke my faith, would not betray 
 
 The devil to his fellow, and delight 
 
 No less in truth than life : my first false speaking 
 
 Was this upon myself: what I am truly, 
 
 Is thine and my poor country's to command. 
 
 AN OPPRESSED COUNTRY. 
 
 Alas, poor country ! 
 Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot 
 Be caird our mother, but our grave ; where nothing, 
 But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile ; 
 Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the 
 
 air 
 Are made, not mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems 
 A modern ecstasy :^^ the dead man's knell 
 Is there scarce ask'd for who ; and good men's lives 
 Expire before the flowers in their caps. 
 Dying or ere they sicken. 
 
 1 Over-hasty credulity. 2 Common distress of mind. 
 
154 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Macduff's behaviour on the murder of his 
 wife and children. 
 
 Ross. Would I could answer 
 
 This comfort with the like ! but I have words 
 That would be howPd out in the desert air, 
 Where hearing should not latch ^ them. 
 
 Macduff. What concern they? 
 
 The general cause? or is it a fee-grief 2 
 Due to some single breast? 
 
 Ross. No mind that 's honest 
 
 But in it shares some woe ; though the main part 
 Pertains to you alone. 
 
 Macd. If it be mine, 
 
 Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 
 
 Ross. Let not your ears despise my tongue for 
 ever, 
 Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound 
 That ever yet they heard. 
 
 Macd. Hum! I guess at it. 
 
 Ross. Your castle is surprised ; your wife and 
 babes 
 Savagely slaughtered : to relate the manner. 
 Were, on the quarry 3 of these murdered deer. 
 To add the death of you. 
 
 Malcolm. Merciful heaven! 
 
 What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ; 
 Give sorrow words : the grief that does not speak 
 Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. 
 
 1 Catch. * A fi^rief that has a single owner. 
 
 8 The game after it is killed. 
 
Macbeth, 155 
 
 Macd- My children too? 
 
 Ross. Wife, children, servants, all 
 
 That could be found. 
 
 Macd. And I must be from thence ! 
 
 My wife kill'd too ? 
 
 Ross. I have said. 
 
 Mai. Be comforted : 
 
 Let 's make us medicines of our great revenge, 
 To cure this deadly grief. 
 
 Macd. He has no children. All my pretty ones? 
 Did you say all? O hell-kite ! All? 
 What, all my pretty chickens and their dam 
 At one fell swoop? 
 " Mai. Dispute it like a man. 
 
 Macd. I shall do so ; 
 
 But I must also feel it as a man : 
 I cannot but remember such things were. 
 That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, 
 And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, 
 They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am. 
 Not for their own demerits, but for mine. 
 Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now ! 
 
 Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword : let 
 grief 
 Convert to anger ; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 
 
 Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine 
 eyes 
 And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle heavens. 
 Cut short all intermission ; ^ front to front 
 Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; 
 
 1 All pause. 
 
156 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, 
 Heaven forgive him too ! 
 
 Mai. This tune goes manly. 
 
 Come, go we to the king ; our power is ready ; 
 Our lack is nothing but our leave : Macbeth 
 Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
 Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you 
 
 may: 
 The night is long that never finds the day. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper. 
 
 Gentlewoman. Lo you, here she comes ! This 
 is her very guise ; and, upon my life, fast asleep. 
 Observe her; stand close. 
 
 Doctor. How came she by that light? 
 
 Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by 
 her continually; 't is her command. 
 
 Doct. You see, her eyes are open. 
 
 Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. 
 
 Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she 
 rubs her hands. 
 
 Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to 
 seem thus washing her hands : I have known her 
 continue in this a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Lady Macbeth. Yet here 's a spot. 
 
 Doct. Hark ! she speaks : I will set down what 
 
Macbeth. 157 
 
 comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more 
 strongly. 
 
 Lady M. Out damned spot ! out, I say ! — One : 
 Two : Why, then 't is time to do 't. — Hell is murky ! ' 
 
 — Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What 
 need we fear who knows it, when none can call our 
 power to account ? — Yet who would have thought 
 the old man to have had so much blood in him? 
 
 Doct. Do you mark that ? 
 
 Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife : where is 
 she now? — What, will these hands ne'er be clean ? 
 
 — No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that : you 
 mar all with this starting. 
 
 Doct. Go to, go to ; you have known what you 
 should not. 
 
 Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am 
 sure of that : heaven knows what she has known. 
 
 Lady M. Here 's the smell of the blood still : all 
 the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little 
 hand. Oh, oh, oh ! 
 
 Doct. What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely 
 charged. 
 
 Ge7it. I would not have such a heart in my 
 bosom for the dignity of the whole body. 
 
 Doct. Well, well, well,— 
 
 Gent. Pray God it be, sir, 
 
 Doct. This disease is beyond my practice : yet I 
 have known those which have walked in their sleep 
 who have died holily in their beds. 
 
 1 Dark. 
 
158 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night- 
 gown ; look not so pale. — I tell you yet again, 
 Banquo 's buried ; he cannot come out on 's grave. 
 
 Doct. Even so? 
 
 Lady M. To bed, to bed ! there 's knocking at the 
 gate : come, come, come, come, give me your hand. 
 
 What 's done cannot be undone To bed, to bed, 
 
 to bed ! 
 
 DESPISED OLD AGE. 
 
 L have lived long enough : my way of life 
 
 Is fall'n into the sear,' the yellow leaf; 
 
 And that which should accompany old age, 
 
 As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
 
 I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, 
 
 Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, 
 
 Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. 
 
 DISEASES OF THE MIND INCURABLE. 
 
 Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased. 
 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow. 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain. 
 And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
 Cleanse the stuff M bosom of that perilous stuff 
 Which weighs upon the heart? 
 
 »Drjr. 
 
Macbeth, 159 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON LIFE. 
 
 To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
 
 Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 
 
 To the last syllable of recorded time, 
 
 And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
 
 The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! 
 
 Life 's but a walking shadow, a poor player 
 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage 
 
 And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
 
 Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. 
 
 Signifying nothing. 
 
OTHELLO. 
 ACT L 
 
 PREFERMENT. 
 
 'T is the curse of service, 
 Preferment goes by letter and affection, 
 And not by old gradation, where each second 
 Stood heir to the first. 
 
 lAGO'S DISPRAISE OF HONESTY. 
 
 We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
 Cannot be truly follow^. You shall mark 
 Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, 
 That, doting on his own obsequious bondage. 
 Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, 
 For nought but provender, and when he 's old, 
 
 cashier'd : 
 Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are 
 Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, 
 Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves. 
 And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, 
 Do well thrive by them and when they have lined their 
 
 coats 
 Do themselves homage: these fellows have some 
 
 soul} 
 
Othello. i6i 
 
 And such a one do I profess myself. 
 
 For, sir, 
 
 It is as sure as you are Roderigo, 
 
 Were I the Moor, I would not be lago : 
 
 In following him, I follow but myself; 
 
 Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 
 
 But seeming ao, for my peculiar end : 
 
 For when my outward action doth demonstrate 
 
 The native act and figure of my heart 
 
 In compliment extern,^ 't is not long after 
 
 But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 
 
 For daws to peck at : I am not what I am. 
 
 LOVE, OTHELLO'S SOLE MOTIVE FOR MARRYING. 
 
 For know, lago, 
 But that I love the gentle Desdemona, 
 I would not my unhoused ^ free condition 
 Put into circumscription and confine 
 For the sea's worth. 
 
 OTHELLO S DESCRIPTION TO THE SENATE OF HIS 
 WINNING THE AFFECTIONS OF DESDEMONA. 
 
 Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors. 
 My very noble and approved good masters, 
 That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 
 It is most true ; true, I have married her : 
 The very head and front of my offending 
 
 1 Outward show of civility. « Unsettled. 
 
x62 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my 
 
 speech, 
 And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace : 
 For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, 
 Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used 
 Their dearest action ' in the tented field. 
 And little of this great world can I speak, 
 More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, 
 And therefore little shall I grace my cause 
 In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious pa- 
 tience, 
 I will a round unvarnished tale deliver 
 Ot my whole course of love; what drugs, what 
 
 charms. 
 What conjuration and what mighty magic, 
 For such proceeding I am charged withal, 
 I won his daughter. 
 
 Her father loved me ; oft invited me ; 
 
 Still questioned me the story of my life. 
 
 From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes. 
 
 That I have pass'd. 
 
 I ran it through, even from my boyish days. 
 
 To the very moment that he bade me tell it ; 
 
 Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, 
 
 Of moving accidents by flood and field. 
 
 Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly 
 
 breach. 
 Of being taken by the insolent foe 
 
 1 Best exertion. 
 
Othello, 163 
 
 And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence 
 And portance ^ in my travels' history : 
 
 This to hear 
 Would Desdemona seriously incline : 
 But still the house-affairs would draw her thence : 
 Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, 
 She 'Id come again, and with a greedy ear 
 Devour up my discourse : which I observing, 
 Took once a pliant hour, and found good means 
 To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart 
 That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 
 Whereof by parcels ^ she had something heard, 
 But not intentively : ^ I did consent. 
 And often did beguile her of her tears. 
 When I did speak of some distressful stroke 
 That my youth suffer'd. My story being done. 
 She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : 
 She swore, in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing 
 
 strange, 
 'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful : 
 She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd 
 That heaven had made her such a man : she thankM 
 
 me, 
 And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 
 I should but teach him how to tell my story. 
 And thaf would woo her. Upon this hint I spake : 
 She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, 
 And I loved her that she did pity them. 
 
 1 My behaviour. 2 Parts. 
 
 3 Intention and attention were once synonymous. 
 
1 64 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 PERFECT CONTENT. 
 
 O my soul's joy ! 
 If after every tempest come such calms, 
 May the >vinds blow till they have waken'd death ! 
 And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas 
 Olympus-high and duck again as low 
 As hell 's from heaven ! If it were now to die, 
 'T were now to be most happy ; for, I fear, 
 My soul hath her content so. absolute 
 That not another comfort like to this 
 Succeeds in unknown fate. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 A lover's exclamation. 
 Farewell, my Desdemona : I '11 come to thee straight. 
 
 [^Exit Desdemona. 
 Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul. 
 But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not. 
 Chaos is come again. ^ 
 
 OTHELLO'S FIRST SUSPICION. 
 
 Othello. What dost thou think ? 
 
 /ago. Think, my lord ! 
 
 0th. Think, my lord ! 
 
Othello. 165 
 
 By heaven, he echoes me, 
 As if there were some monster in his thought 
 Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean some- 
 thing : 
 I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that. 
 When Cassio left my wife : what didst not like ? 
 And when I told thee he was of my counsel 
 In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst * Indeed ! ' 
 And didst contract and purse thy brow together, 
 As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain 
 Some horrible conceit : if thou dost love me, 
 Show me thy thought. 
 
 lago. My lord, you know I love you. 
 0th. I think thou dost ; 
 
 And, for I know thou Vt full of love and honesty. 
 And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them 
 
 breath. 
 Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more : 
 For such things in a false disloyal knave 
 Are tricks of custom, but in a man that 's just 
 They are close delations, working from the heart 
 That passion cannot rule. 
 
 REPUTATION. 
 
 Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, 
 
 Is the immediate jewel of their souls : 
 
 Who steals my purse steals trash ; 't is something, 
 
 nothing ; 
 'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands ; 
 But he that filches from me my good name 
 
1 66 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Robs me of that which not enriches him 
 And makes me poor indeed. 
 
 Othello's jealousy gaining ground. 
 
 This fellow 's of exceeding honesty, 
 And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit. 
 Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,' 
 Though that her jesses ^ were my dear heart-strings, 
 1 'Id whistle her off and let her down the wind. 
 To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black 
 And have not those soft parts of conversation 
 That chamberers ^ have, or for I am declined 
 Into the vale of years, — yet that 's not much — 
 She 's gone. I am abused ; and my relief 
 Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, 
 That we can call these delicate creatures ours. 
 And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad, 
 And live upon the vapour of a dungeon. 
 Than keep a corner in the thing I love 
 For others' uses. 
 
 DEFINITION OF JEALOUSY. 
 
 Trifles light as air 
 Are to the jealous confirmations strong 
 As proofs of holy writ. 
 
 1 A species of hawk ; also a term of reproach applied to a 
 wanton. 
 
 2 Straps of leather by which a hawk is held on the fist. 
 8 Men of intrigue. 
 
Othello. 167 
 
 THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY. 
 
 Look, where he comes ! 
 
 Enter Othello. 
 Not poppy, nor mandragora,^ 
 Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 
 Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
 Which thou owedst 2 yesterday. 
 
 Othello. Ha ! ha ! false to me ? 
 
 lago. Why, how now, general ! no more of that. 
 
 0th. Avaunt ! begone ! thou hast set me on the 
 rack: 
 I swear 't is better to be much abused 
 Than but to know 't a little. 
 
 lago. How now, my lord ! 
 
 0th. What sense had I of her stoPn hours of 
 lust? 
 I saw 't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me : 
 1 slept the next night well, was free and merry ; 
 I found not Cassio''s kisses on her lips : 
 He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stoPn, 
 Let him not know 't, and he 's not robb'd at all. 
 
 lago. I am sorry to hear this. 
 
 0th. I had been happy, if the general camp, 
 Pioners^ and all, had tasted her sweet body, 
 So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever 
 Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! 
 Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, 
 
 1 The mandrake has a soporific quality. 2 Possessedst. 
 
 3 The vilest of the camp. Pioners were generally degraded 
 soldiers. 
 
1 68 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That make ambition virtue ! O farewell ! 
 Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, 
 The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
 The royal banner, and all quality. 
 Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war ! 
 And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
 The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit. 
 Farewell ! Othello's occupation 's gone ! 
 
 Jago. Is H possible, my lord? 
 
 0th. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, 
 Be sure of it ; give me the ocular proof; 
 Or, by the worth of man's eternal soul. 
 Thou hadst been better have been born a dog 
 Than answer my waked wrath. 
 
 /ago. Is 't come to this? 
 
 0th. Make me to see 't ; or, at the least, so prove 
 it, 
 That the probation bear no hinge nor loop 
 To hang a doubt on ; or woe upon thy life ! 
 
 /ago. My noble lord, — 
 
 0th. If thou dost slander her and torture me, 
 Never pray more ; abandon all remorse ;' 
 On horror's head horrors accumulate ; 
 Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed ; 
 For nothing canst thou to damnation add 
 Greater than that. 
 
 lago. O grace ! O heaven forgive me ! 
 
 Are you a man ? have you a soul or sense ? 
 God be wi' you ; take mine office. O wretched fool, 
 
 1 All tenderiftss, all pity. 
 
Othello. 169 
 
 That livest to make thine honesty a vice ! 
 
 monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O world, 
 To be direct and honest is not safe. 
 
 1 thank you for this profit ; and from hence 
 
 I Ul love no friend, sith love breeds such offence. 
 
 Oih. Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. 
 
 lago. I should be wise, for honesty 's a fool 
 And loses that it works for. 
 
 0th. By the world, 
 
 I think my wife be honest and think she is not ; 
 I think that thou art just and think thou art not. 
 I '11 have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh 
 As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black 
 As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, 
 Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, 
 I '11 not endure it. Would I were satisfied ! 
 
 OTHELLO S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 Othello. That handkerchief 
 Did an Egyptian to my mother give ; 
 She was a charmer,^ and could almost read 
 The thoughts of people: she told her, while sh; 
 
 kept it, 
 'T would make her amiable and subdue my father 
 Entirely to her love, but if she lost it 
 Or made a gift of it, my father's eye 
 Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt 
 After new fancies : she, dying, gave it me ; 
 
 1 enchantress. 
 
1 70 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, 
 To give it her. I did so : and take heed on 't ; 
 Make it a darhng like your precious eye ; 
 To lose 't or give 't away were such perdition 
 As nothing else could match. 
 
 Desdemona. Is 't possible? 
 
 0th. ''T is true : there 's magic in the web of it 
 A sibyl, that had numbered in the world 
 The sun to course two hundred compasses, 
 In her prophetic fury sewM the work ; 
 The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk ; 
 And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful 
 Conserved of maidens' hearts. 
 
 A lover's computation of time. 
 
 What, keep a week away? seven days and nights? 
 Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours, 
 More tedious than the dial eight score times? 
 O weary reckoning ! 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Othello's distraction. 
 
 Othello. What hath he said? 
 
 lago. 'Faith, that he did — I know not what he 
 
 did. 
 Oth. What? what? 
 lago. Lie — 
 Oth. With her? 
 
Othello. 171 
 
 Tago. With her, on her ; what you will. 
 
 Olh. Lie with her ! lie on her ! We say lie on 
 her, when they belie her. Lie with her ! that 's ful- 
 some — Handkerchief — confessions — handkerchief! 
 — To confess, and be hanged for his labour ; ^ — first, 
 to be hanged, and then to confess. — I tremble at it. 
 Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing 
 passion without some instruction. It is not words 
 that shake me thus. Pish I Noses, ears, and lips. — 
 Is 't possible ? — Confess — handkerchief ! — O devil ! 
 
 [Falls in a trance. 
 
 HIS FONDNESS. 
 
 Othello. A fine woman ! a fair woman ! a sweet 
 woman ! 
 
 lago. Nay, you must forget that. 
 
 0th. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned 
 to-night ; for she shall not live : no, my heart is 
 turned to stone ; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. 
 O, the world hath not a sweeter creature : she might 
 lie by an emperor's side and command him tasks. 
 
 lago. Nay, that 's not your way. 
 
 0th. Hang her ! I do but say what she is : so 
 delicate with her needle : an admirable musician : O ! 
 she will sing the savageness out of a bear : of so 
 high and plenteous wit and invention : — 
 
 lago. She 's the worse for all this. 
 
 0th. O, a thousand thousand times : and then, of 
 so gentle a condition ! '■* 
 
 1 A proverbial saying. * Of so sweet a disposition. 
 
172 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 lago. Ay, too gentle. 
 
 0th. Nay, that 's certain : but yet the pity of it, 
 lago ! O lago, the pity of it, lago ! 
 
 HIS CONFIRMED JEALOUSY. 
 
 Othello. Mistress ! 
 Desdefnona. My lord? 
 
 0th. What would you do with her, sir? 
 
 Lodovico. Who, I, my lord? 
 
 Oth. Ay ; you did wish that I would make her 
 turn: 
 Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on. 
 And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep ; 
 And she 's obedient, as you say, obedient. 
 Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. 
 Concerning this, sir, — O well-painted passion ! — 
 1 am commanded home. Get you away ; 
 I Ul send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate. 
 And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt ! 
 
 \Exit Desdemona. 
 Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night, 
 I do entreat that we may sup together : 
 You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus — Goats and mon- 
 keys ! {Exit. 
 
 HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA. 
 
 Desdemona. Upon my knees, what doth your 
 speech import? 
 I understand a fury in your words. 
 
Othello. 1 73 
 
 But not the words. 
 
 Othello. Why, what art thou? 
 
 Des. Your wife, my lord ; your true 
 
 And loyal wife. 
 
 0th. Come, swear it, damn thyself; 
 
 Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves 
 Should fear to seize thee : therefore be double- 
 
 damn'd : 
 Swear thou art honest. 
 
 Des. Heaven doth truly know it. 
 
 0th. Heaven truly knows that thou art false as 
 hell. 
 
 Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? how am 
 I false? 
 
 0th. O Desdemona ! away! away! away! 
 
 Des. Alas the heavy day ! Why do you weep ? 
 Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? 
 If haply you my father do suspect 
 An instrument of this your calling back, 
 Lay not your blame on me ; if you have lost him, 
 Why, I have lost him too. 
 
 0th. Had it pleased heaven 
 
 To try me with affliction ; had they rain'd 
 All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head, 
 Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips. 
 Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, 
 I should have found in some place of my soul 
 A drop of patience : but, alas, to make me 
 A fixed figure for the time of scorn 
 To point his slow unmoving finger at ! 
 Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well ! 
 
174 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 But there, where I have garnered ^ up my heart, 
 Where either I must live, or bear no life ; 
 The fountain from the which my current runs, 
 Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! 
 Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads 
 To knot and gender in ! turn thy complexion there. 
 Patience, thou young and rose-lippM cherubin, — 
 Ay, there, look grim as hell ! 
 
 Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. 
 
 Oih. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the shambles, 
 That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed. 
 Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet 
 That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er 
 been born ! 
 
 Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? 
 
 0th. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, 
 Made to write * whore ' upon ? What committed ! 
 Committed ! O thou public commoner ! 
 I should make very forges of my cheeks. 
 That would to cinders burn up modesty. 
 Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed ! 
 Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks, 
 The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets 
 Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth. 
 And will not hear it. What committed ! 
 Impudent strumpet ! 
 
 Des. By heaven, you do me wrong. 
 
 0th. Are you not a strumpet? 
 
 Des. No, as I am a Christian : 
 
 If to preserve this vessel for my lord 
 
 » Treasured up. 
 
Othello. 175 
 
 From any other foul unlawful touch 
 Be not to be a strumpet, I am none, 
 
 0th. What, not a whore ? 
 
 Des, No, as I shall be saved. 
 
 0th, Is 't possible? 
 
 Des. O heaven forgive us ! 
 
 0th. I cry you mercy, then : 
 
 I took you for that cunning whore of Venice 
 That married with Othello. 
 
 desdemona's fidelity. 
 
 O good I ago. 
 What shall I do to win my lord again ? 
 Good friend, go to him ; for, by this light of heaven, 
 I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel : 
 If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, 
 Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, 
 Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 
 Delighted them in any other form ; 
 Or that I do not yet, and ever did. 
 And ever will — though he do shake me off 
 To beggarly divorcement — love him dearly, 
 Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much ; 
 And his unkindness may defeat my life, 
 But never taint my love. 
 
176 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 OTHELLO'S IRRESOLUTION TO MURDER DESDEMONA. 
 
 Scene. A Bedchamber in the Castle: Desdemona 
 iti bed asleep. A light burning. 
 
 Othello. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, — 
 Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars, — 
 It is the cause. Yet I '11 not shed her blood ; 
 Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 
 And smooth as monumental alabaster. 
 Yet she must die, else she '11 betray more men. 
 Put out the light, and then put out the light:' 
 If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
 I can again thy former light restore. 
 Should I repent me : but once put out thy light, 
 Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
 I know not where is that Promethean heat 
 That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd 
 
 the rose, 
 I cannot give it vital growth again. 
 It must needs wither: I '11 smell it on the tree. 
 
 [Kissing her. 
 Ah, 'balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
 Justice to break her sword ! One more, one more. 
 Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee. 
 And love thee after. One more, and this the last : 
 So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 
 
 » i.e. The light of life. 
 
Othello. 177 
 
 But they are cruel tears : this sorrow 's heavenly ; 
 It strikes where it doth love. 
 
 HIS CONFUSION AFTER THE MURDER. 
 
 Yes : 't is Emilia. By and by. She 's dead. 
 'T is like she comes to speak of Cassio's death. — 
 The noise was here. Ha! no more moving? 
 Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were 't 
 
 good ? — 
 I think she stirs again : — no. What 's best to do? 
 If she come in, she '11 sure speak to my wife : 
 My wife ! my wife ! what wife? I have no wife. 
 O, insupportable ! O heavy hour ! 
 Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 
 Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe 
 Should yawn at alteration. 
 
 HIS LOVE. 
 
 Had she been true, 
 If heaven would make me such another world 
 Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,* 
 I Id not have sold her for it. 
 
 HIS REMORSE. 
 
 Behold, I have a weapon ; 
 A better never did itself sustain 
 Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day, 
 That, with this little arm and this good sword, 
 
 1 A precious stone. 
 
1 78 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 I have made my way through more impediments 
 
 Than twenty times your stop : but, O vain boast ! 
 
 Who can control his fate? 't is not so now. 
 
 Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd ; 
 
 Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, 
 
 And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 
 
 Do you go back dismay'd ? 't is a lost fear ; 
 
 Man but a rush against Othello's breast. 
 
 And he retires. Where should Othello go? 
 
 Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench ! 
 
 Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt, ' 
 
 This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, 
 
 And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl ! 
 
 Even like thy chastity. 
 
 O cursed slave ! Whip me, ye devils. 
 
 From the possession of this heavenly sight ! 
 
 Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur ! 
 
 Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! 
 
 O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead ! 
 
 Oh! Oh! Oh! 
 
 HIS SPEECH BEFORE HIS DEATH. 
 
 Soft you ; a word or two before you go. 
 
 I have done the state some service, and they know 't. 
 
 No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, 
 
 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
 
 Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, 
 
 Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak 
 
 Of one that loved not wisely but too well ; 
 
 1 Account. 
 
Othello. 179 
 
 Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought 
 
 Perplex'd in the extreme ; of one whose hand, 
 
 Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away 
 
 Richer than all his tribe ; of one whose subdued eyes, 
 
 Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
 
 Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
 
 Their medicinal gum. Set you down this ; 
 
 And say besides, that in Aleppo once. 
 
 Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk 
 
 Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, 
 
 I took by the throat the circumcised dog. 
 
 And smote him, thus. [Stabs himself. 
 
ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 ACT I. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs ; 
 Being purged, a fire sparkUng in lovers' eyes ; 
 Being vex'd, a sea nourished witli lovers' tears : 
 What is it else? a madness most discreet, 
 A choking gall and a preserving sweet. 
 
 ON DREAMS. 
 
 O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. 
 
 She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes 
 
 In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
 
 On the fore-finger of an alderman. 
 
 Drawn with a team of little atomies ' 
 
 Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep ; 
 
 Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs. 
 
 The cover of the wings of grasshoppers. 
 
 The traces of the smallest spider's web. 
 
 The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, 
 
 Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, 
 
 Her waggoner a small grey-coated gnat, 
 
 Not half so big as a round little worm 
 
 1 Atoms. 
 
Romeo and Juliet, i8i 
 
 Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid ; 
 
 Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut 
 
 Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, 
 
 Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. 
 
 And in this state she gallops night by night 
 
 Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love ; 
 
 O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies 
 
 straight, 
 O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, 
 O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, 
 Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues. 
 Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are : 
 Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose. 
 And then dreams he of smelling out a suit ; ^ 
 And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail 
 Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, 
 Then dreams he of another benefice : 
 Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, 
 And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, 
 Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, 
 Of healths five-fathom deep ; and then anon 
 Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes. 
 And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two 
 And sleeps again. This is that very Mab 
 That plats the manes of horses in the night, 
 And bakes the elf-locks ^ in foul sluttish hairs, 
 Which once untangled much misfortune bodes : 
 This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, 
 
 1 A place in court. 
 
 * i.e. Fairy locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in the 
 night. 
 
1 82 Beauties of Shahspeare. 
 
 That presses them and learns them first to bear, 
 Making them women of good carriage : 
 This is she — 
 
 Romeo. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace ! 
 
 Thou talk'st of nothing. 
 
 Mercutio. True, I talk of dreams, 
 
 Which are the children of an idle brain. 
 Begot of nothing but vain fantasy. 
 Which is as thin of substance as the air 
 And more inconstant than the wind, who woos 
 Even now the frozen bosom of the north, 
 And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence. 
 Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A BEAUTY. 
 
 O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright ! 
 It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night 
 Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ' ear ; 
 Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ! 
 So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. 
 As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 THE GARDEN SCENE. 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 Rojneo. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. 
 [Juliet appears above at a window. 
 
 1 An Ethiopian, a black. 
 
Romeo and Juliet. 183 
 
 But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks? 
 
 It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. 
 
 Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, 
 
 Who is already sick and pale with grief. 
 
 That thou her maid art far more fair than she : 
 
 Be not her maid,' since she is envious ; 
 
 Her vestal livery is but sick and green 
 
 And none but fools do wear it ; cast* it off. 
 
 It is my lady, O, it is my love ! 
 
 O, that she knew she were ! 
 
 She speaks, yet she says nothing : what of that ? 
 
 Her eye discourses ; I will answer it. 
 
 I am too bold, 't is not to me she speaks : 
 
 Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 
 
 Having some business, do entreat her eyes' 
 
 To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 
 
 What if her eyes were there, they in her head? 
 
 The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, 
 
 As daylight doth a lamp ; her eyes in heaven 
 
 Would through the airy region stream so bright 
 
 That birds would sing and think it were not night. 
 
 See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! 
 
 O, that I were a glove upon that hand. 
 
 That I might touch that cheek ! 
 
 Juliet. Ay me ! 
 
 Rom. She speaks: 
 
 O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art 
 As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, 
 As is a winged messenger of heaven 
 Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes 
 
 * A votary to the moon, to Diana. 
 
184 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him 
 When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds 
 And sails upon the bosom of the air. 
 
 yul. O, Romeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou" 
 Romeo ? 
 Deny thy father and refuse thy name ; 
 Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. 
 And I '11 no longer be a Capulet. 
 
 Rom. [Aside.'] Shall I hear more, or shall I 
 speak at this? 
 
 yul. 'T is but thy name that is my enemy. 
 
 What 's in a name ? that which we call a rose 
 By any other name would smell as sweet ; 
 So Romeo would, were he not Romeo calPd, 
 Retain that dear perfection which he owes ^ 
 Without that title. Romeo, doff 2 thy name, 
 And for that name which is no part of thee 
 Take all myself. 
 
 Rofn. I take thee at thy word : 
 
 Call me but love, and I '11 be new baptized ; 
 Henceforth I never will be Romeo. 
 
 yiil. What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in 
 night 
 So stumblest on my counsel ? 
 
 Rojn. By a name 
 
 I know not how to tell thee who I am : 
 My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, 
 Because it is an enemy to thee ; 
 Had I it written, I would tear the word. 
 
 lOwns, possesses. s Do off. 
 
Romeo and Juliet. 185 
 
 yul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred 
 words 
 Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound : 
 Art thou not Romeo and a Montague ? 
 
 Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. 
 
 yul. How earnest thou hither, tell me; and 
 wherefore ? 
 The orchard walls are high and hard to climb. 
 And the place death, considering who thou art. 
 If any of my kinsmen find thee here. 
 
 Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch 
 these walls ; 
 For stony limits cannot hold love out. 
 And what love can do that dares love attempt ; 
 Therefore thy kinsmen are no let ^ to me. 
 
 yjtl. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. 
 
 Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye 
 Than twenty of their swords : look thou but sweet. 
 And I am proof against their enmity. 
 
 yul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. 
 
 Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their 
 sight ; 
 And but thou love me,^ let them find me here : 
 My life were better ended by their hate. 
 Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. 
 
 yul. By whose direction found'st thou out this 
 place ? 
 
 Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to in- 
 quire ; 
 He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. 
 
 1 Hindrance. 2 Unless thou love me. 
 
1 86 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 I am no pilot ; yet, wert thou as far 
 
 As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, 
 
 I would adventure for such merchandise. 
 
 Jtil. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my 
 face, 
 Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek 
 For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
 Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
 What I have spoke : but farewell compHment ! 
 Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say ' Ay,' 
 And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st, 
 Thou mayst .prove false; at lovers' perjuries, 
 They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, 
 If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : 
 Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
 I '11 frown and be perverse and say thee nay. 
 So thou wilt woo ; but else, not for the world. 
 In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond. 
 And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour ' light : 
 But trust me, gentleman, I '11 prove more true 
 Than those that have more cunning to be strange.^ 
 I should have been more strange, I must confess, 
 But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware. 
 My true love's passion : therefore parjjon me, 
 And not impute this yielding to light love. 
 Which the dark night hath so discovered. 
 
 Ro?n. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear 
 That tips with silver all these fmit-tree tops — 
 
 Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant 
 moon, 
 
 1 Behaviour. « Shy. 
 
Romeo and Juliet. 187 
 
 That monthly changes in her circled orb, 
 Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 
 
 Rojn. What shall I swear by? 
 
 Jjil. Do not swear at all ; 
 
 Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 
 Which is the god of my idolatry, 
 And I Ul believe thee . 
 
 Rofn. If my heart's dear love — 
 
 yul. Well, do not swear : although I joy in thee, 
 I have no joy of this contract to-night : 
 It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ; 
 Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be 
 Ere one can say ' It lightens.' Sweet, good night ! 
 This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
 May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 
 Good night, good night ! as sweet repose and rest 
 Come to thy heart as that within my breast ! 
 
 Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 
 
 Jjil. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? 
 
 Ro7n. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for 
 mine. 
 
 y?//. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it : 
 And yet I would it were to give again. 
 
 Ro7;t. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what pur- 
 pose, love? 
 
 yul. But to be frank, ^ and give it thee again. 
 And yet I wish but for the thing I have : 
 My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
 My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, 
 
 iFree. 
 
1 88 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 The more I have, for both are infinite. 
 
 ' [Nurse calls ivithin. 
 
 I hear some noise within ; dear love, adieu ! 
 Anon, good nurse ! Sweet Montague, be true. 
 Stay but a little, I will come again. \Exit, above. 
 
 Rofn. O blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard. 
 Being in night, all this is but a dream. 
 Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 
 Re-enter Juliet, above. 
 
 Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night 
 indeed. 
 If that thy bent i of love be honourable, 
 Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow. 
 By one that I '11 procure to come to thee, 
 Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite ; 
 And all my fortunes at thy foot I '11 lay 
 And follow thee my lord throughout the world. 
 
 Nurse. [Within. '\ Madam ! 
 
 Jul. I come, anon. — But if thou mean'st not 
 well, I do beseech thee — 
 
 Nurse. [Within. '\ Madam ! 
 
 Jul. By and by, I come : — 
 
 To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: 
 To-morrow will I send. 
 
 Ro?n. So thrive my soul — 
 
 Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit, above. 
 
 Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy 
 light. 
 Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their 
 
 books, 
 
 1 Inclination. 
 
Romeo and Juliet, 189 
 
 But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. 
 
 [^Retiring. 
 Re-enter Juliet, above. 
 
 Jul. Hist ! Romeo, hist ! O, for a falconer's 
 voice, 
 To lure this tassel-gentle ' back again ! 
 Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
 Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, 
 And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, 
 With repetition of my Romeo's name. 
 
 Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name : 
 How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 
 Like softest music to attending ears ! 
 
 Jul. Romeo ! 
 
 Rom. My dear? 
 
 Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow 
 
 Shall I send to thee ? 
 
 Rom. At the hour of nine. 
 
 Jul. I will not fail : 't is twenty years till then. 
 I have forgot why I did call thee back. 
 
 Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. 
 
 Jtd. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there. 
 Remembering how I love thy company. 
 
 Roju. And I '11 still stay, to have thee still forget. 
 Forgetting any other home but this. 
 
 Jul. 'T is almost morning-; I would have thee 
 gone : 
 And yet no further than a wanton's bird ; 
 Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 
 
 1 The male of the goshawk. 
 
iQo Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, ' 
 And with a silk thread plucks it back again, 
 So loving-jealous of his liberty. 
 Rojn. I would I were thy bird. 
 yul. Sweet, so would I : 
 
 Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
 Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sor- 
 row. 
 That I shall say good night till it be morrow. 
 
 love's heralds. 
 
 Love's heralds should be thoughts, 
 Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, 
 Driving back shadows over louring hills : 
 Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, 
 And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. 
 
 VIOLENT DELIGHTS NOT LASTING. 
 
 These violent delights have violent ends 
 
 And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, 
 
 Which as they kiss consume. 
 
 LOVERS LIGHT OF FOOT. 
 
 O, so light a foot 
 Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint : 
 A lover may bestride the gossamer ^ 
 That idles in the wanton summer air. 
 And yet not fall ; so light is vanity. 
 
 1 Fetters. 2 The long white filament which flies in the wr. 
 
Romeo and Juliet. 191 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 A lover's impatience. 
 
 Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
 Towards Phoebus' lodging : such a waggoner 
 As Phaethon would whip you to the west, 
 And bring in cloudy night immediately. 
 Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, 
 That runaway's eyes may wink, and Romeo 
 Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. 
 Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 
 By their own beauties ; or, if love be blind. 
 It best agrees with night. 
 
 ROMEO ON HIS BANISHMENT. 
 
 Scene. Friar Laiiretice's Cell. 
 Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo. 
 Friar Laurence. A gentler judgment vanishM 
 from his lips, 
 Not body's death, but body's banishment. 
 
 Romeo. Ha, banishment ! be merciful, say ' death ; ' 
 For exile hath more terror in his look. 
 Much more than death : do not say ' banishment.' 
 
 Fri. Hence from Verona art thou banished : 
 Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. 
 
 Rom. There is no world without Verona walls, 
 But purgatory, torture, hell itself. 
 Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, 
 
192 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 And world's exile is death : then banished, 
 Is death mis-term'd : calling death banishment, 
 Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, 
 And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. 
 
 jFri. O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness ! 
 Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind prince, 
 Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, 
 And turn'd that black word death to banishment : 
 This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. 
 
 jRom. 'T is torture, and not mercy : heaven is here, 
 Where Juliet lives ; and every cat and dog 
 And little mouse, every unworthy thing, 
 Live here in heaven and may look on her ; 
 But Romeo may not: more validity,' 
 More honourable state, more courtship lives 
 In carrion-flies than Romeo : they may seize 
 On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand 
 And steal immortal blessing from her lips. 
 Who, even in pure and vestal modesty. 
 Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin ; 
 But Romeo may not ; he is banished : 
 Flies may do this, but I from this must fly : 
 They are free men, but I am banished. 
 And say'st thou yet that exile is not death? 
 Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife 
 No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean. 
 But ' banished ' to kill me ? — ' banished ' ? 
 O friar, the damned use that word in hell ; 
 Howlings attend it : how hast thou the heart, 
 
 * Worth, value. 
 
Romeo and Juliet, 193 
 
 Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, 
 
 A sin-absolver, and my friend professed. 
 
 To mangle me with that word ' banished '? 
 
 Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but speak a 
 word. 
 
 Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. 
 
 Fri. I '11 give thee armour to keep off that word ; 
 Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, 
 To comfort thee, though thou art banished. 
 
 Rom. Yet ♦ banished ' ? Hang up philosophy ! 
 Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, 
 Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, 
 It helps not, it prevails not : talk no more. 
 
 Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. 
 
 Rom. How should they, when that wise men have 
 no eyes ? 
 
 Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. 
 
 Rom. Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not 
 feel: 
 Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love. 
 An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, 
 Doting like me and like me banished, 
 Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy 
 
 hair, 
 And fall upon the ground, as I do now. 
 Taking the measure of an unmade grave. 
 
 RELUCTANCE OF LOVERS TO PART. 
 
 Juliet. Wilt thou be gone ? it is not yet near day : 
 It was the nightingale, and not the lark, 
 
194 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear ; 
 Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree : 
 Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 
 
 Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, 
 No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks 
 Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : 
 Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 
 I must be gone and live, or stay and die, 
 
 ytd. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: 
 It is some meteor that the sun exhales. 
 To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, 
 And light thee on thy way to Mantua : 
 Therefore stay yet ; thou need'st not to be gone. 
 
 Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death ; 
 I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 
 I '11 say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 
 'T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ; > 
 Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
 The vanity heaven so high above our heads : 
 I have more care ^ to stay than will to go : 
 Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. 
 How is 't, my soul? let 's talk ; it is not day. 
 
 AN ANGRY FATHER.^ 
 
 yuliet. Good father, I beseech you on my knees, 
 Hear me with patience but to speak a word. 
 
 Capulet. Hang thee, young baggage ! disobedi- 
 ent wretch ! 
 
 I Reflection of the moon. • 2 Inclination. 
 
Romeo and Juliet, 195 
 
 I tell thee what : get thee to church o' Thursday, 
 
 Or never after look me in the face : 
 
 Speak not, reply not, do not answer me ; 
 
 My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest 
 
 That God had lent us but this only child ; 
 
 But now I see this one is one too much, 
 
 And that we have a curse in having her : 
 
 Out on her, hilding ! 
 
 Nurse. God in heaven bless her! 
 
 You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. 
 
 Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold your 
 tongue, 
 Good prudence ; smatter with your gossips, go. 
 
 Nurse. I speak no treason. 
 
 Cap. O, God ye god-den. 
 
 Nurse. May not one speak? 
 
 Cap'. Peace, you mumbling fool! 
 
 Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl ; 
 For here we need it not. 
 
 Lady Capulet. You are too hot. 
 
 Cap. God's bread ! it makes me mad : 
 Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, 
 Alone, in company, still my care hath been 
 To have her match'd : and having now provided 
 A gentleman of noble parentage, 
 Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, 
 StufTd, as they say, with honourable parts, 
 Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man; 
 And then to have a wretched puling fool, 
 A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, 
 To answer ' I '11 not wed : I cannot love. 
 
196 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 I am too young ; 1 pray you, pardon me.' 
 
 But, an you will not wed, I '11 pardon you : 
 
 Graze where you will, you shall not house with me : 
 
 Look to 't, think on 't, I do not use to jest. 
 
 Thursday is near ; lay hand on heart, advise : 
 
 An you be mine, I '11 give you to my friend ; 
 
 An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the streets, 
 
 F'or, by my soul, I '11 ne'er acknowledge thee. 
 
 Nor what is mine shall never do thee good : 
 
 Trust to 't, bethink you ; I '11 not be forsworn. [^ExiL 
 
 Jill. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds. 
 That sees into the bottom of my grief ? 
 O, sweet my mother, cast me not away ! 
 Delay this marriage for a month, a week ; 
 Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 
 In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. 
 
 La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I "11 not speak a 
 word : 
 Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. \Exit. 
 
 Jul. O God ! — O nurse, how shall this be pre- 
 vented? 
 My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; 
 How shall that faith return again to earth, 
 Unless that husband send it me from heaven 
 By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. 
 Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems 
 Upon so soft a subject as myself! 
 What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? 
 Some comfort, nurse? 
 
Romeo and Juliet, 197 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 JULIET'S RESOLUTION. 
 
 O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, 
 
 From off the battlements of yonder tower ; 
 
 Or walk in thievish ways ; or bid me lurk 
 
 Where serpents are ; chain me with roaring bears ; 
 
 Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, 
 
 O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, 
 
 With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls ; 
 
 Or bid me go into a new-made grave 
 
 And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ; 
 
 Things that, to hear them told, have made me 
 
 tremble ; 
 And I will do it without fear or doubt. 
 To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. 
 
 JULIET'S SOLILOQUY ON DRINKING THE OPIATE. 
 
 Farewell ! God knows when we shall meet again. 
 
 I have a faint cold, fear thrills through my veins, 
 
 That almost freezes up the heat of life : 
 
 I '11 call them back again to comfort me : 
 
 Nurse ! What should she do here ? 
 
 My dismal scene I needs must act alone. 
 
 Come, vial. 
 
 What if this mixture do not work at all ? 
 
 Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? 
 
 No, no : this shall forbid it : lie thou there. 
 
 \Laying down her dagger. 
 
198 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 What if it be a poisqn, which the friar 
 
 Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, 
 
 Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, 
 
 Because he married me before to Romeo? 
 
 I fear it is : and yet, methinks, it should not, 
 
 For he hath still been tried a holy man. 
 
 How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 
 
 I wake before the time that Romeo 
 
 Come to redeem me? there 's a fearful point ! 
 
 Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, 
 
 To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, 
 
 And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? 
 
 Or, if I live, is it not very like, 
 
 The horrible conceit of death and night, 
 
 Together with the terror of the place, — 
 
 As in a vault, an ancient receptacle. 
 
 Where, for these many hundred years, the bones 
 
 Of all my buried ancestors are packM : 
 
 Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, 
 
 Lies festering in his shroud ; where, as they say, 
 
 At some hours in the night spirits resort ; — 
 
 Alack, alack, is it not like that I, 
 
 So early waking, what with loathsome smells, 
 
 And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, 
 
 That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:^ 
 
 O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,^ 
 
 Environed with all these hideous fears? 
 
 1 The fabulous accounts of the plant called a mandrake give it 
 a degree of animal life, and when it is torn from the ground it 
 groans, which is fatal to him that pulls it up. 
 
 s Distracted. 
 
Romeo and Juliet, 199 
 
 And madly play with my forefathers' joints? 
 And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? 
 And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone. 
 As with a club, dash out my desperate brains ? 
 O, look ! methinks I see my cousin's ghost 
 Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body 
 Upon a rapier's point : stay, Tybalt, stay ! 
 Romeo, I come ! this do I drink to thee. 
 
 [She falls upo7i her bed, within the curtain. 
 
 JOY CHANGED TO SORROW. 
 
 All things that we ordained festival, 
 Turn from their office to black funeral ; 
 Our instruments to melancholy bells, 
 Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, 
 Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, 
 Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, 
 And all things change them to the contrary. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 ROMEO'S DESCRIPTION AND DISCOURSE WITH THE 
 APOTHECARY. 
 
 Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. 
 
 Let 's see for means : O mischief, thou art swift 
 
 To enter in the thoughts of desperate men ! 
 
 I do remember an apothecary, — 
 
 And hereabouts he dwells, — which late I noted 
 
 In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, 
 
200 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Culling of simples ; ^ meagre were his looks, 
 Sharp misery had worn him to the bones : 
 And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
 An alligator stuflPd, and other skins 
 Of ill-shaped fishes ; and about his shelves 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
 Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, 
 Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses. 
 Were thinly scattered, to make up a show. 
 Noting this penury, to myself I said 
 ' And if a man did need a poison now. 
 Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 
 Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' 
 O, this same thought did but forerun my need ; 
 And this same needy man must sell it me. 
 As I remember, this should be the house. 
 Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. 
 What, ho ! apothecary ! 
 
 Enter Apothecary. 
 
 Apothecary. Who calls so loud? 
 
 Rojueo. Come hither, man. I see that thou art 
 poor : 
 Hold, there is forty ducats : let me have 
 A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear ' 
 As will disperse itself through all the veins 
 That the life-weary taker may fall dead 
 And that the trunk may be discharged of breath 
 As violently as hasty powder fired 
 Doth hurry from the- fatal cannon's womb. 
 
 1 Herbs. « Stuff. 
 
Romeo and Juliet, 201 
 
 Ap. Such mortal drugs I have ; but Mantua's law 
 Is death to any he that utters them, 
 
 Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, 
 And fear'st to die ? famine is in thy cheeks, 
 Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, 
 Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back ; 
 The world is not thy friend nor the world's law ; 
 The world affords no law to make thee rich ; 
 Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. 
 
 Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents. 
 
 Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 
 
 Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will. 
 And drink it oif; and, if you had the strength 
 Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight, 
 
 Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's 
 souls, 
 Doing more murders in this loathsome world, 
 Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. 
 I sell thee poison ; thou hast sold me none. 
 Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh, 
 
 THE CONTEST OF ROMEO AND PARIS. 
 
 Parts. Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague ! 
 Can vengeance be pursued further than death ? 
 Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee : 
 Obey, and go with me ; for thou must die. 
 
 Romeo. I must indeed ; and therefore came I 
 hither. 
 Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man ; 
 Fly hence, and leave m.e : think upon these gone ; 
 
202 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, 
 
 Put not another sin upon my head. 
 
 By urging me to fury : O, be gone ! 
 
 By heaven, I love thee better than myself; 
 
 For I come hither arm'd against myself: 
 
 Stay not, be gone ; live, and hereafter say, 
 
 A madman's mercy bade thee run away. 
 
 Par. I do defy thy conjurations,^ 
 And apprehend thee for a felon here. 
 
 Rom. Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, 
 boy ! \They fight. 
 
 Par. O, I am slain ! \Falls.'\ If thou be merci- 
 fol, 
 Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. \pies. 
 
 Rom. In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. 
 Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris ! 
 What said my man, when my betossed soul 
 Did not attend him as we rode.'' I think 
 He told me Paris should have married Juliet : 
 Said he not so? or did I dream it so? 
 Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 
 To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, 
 One writ with me in sour misfortune's book ! 
 
 ROMEO'S LAST SPEECH OVER JULIET IN THE TOMB 
 
 O my love ! my wife ! 
 Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath. 
 Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : 
 
 1 1 refuse to do as thou conjurest ine to do; i.e. depart. 
 
Romeo and JuHet, 203 
 
 Thou art not conquered ; beauty''s ensign yet 
 
 Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, 
 
 And death's pale flag is not advanced there. 
 
 Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? 
 
 O, what more favour can I do to thee, 
 
 Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain 
 
 To sunder his that was thine enemy ? 
 
 Forgive me, cousin ! Ah, dear Juliet, 
 
 Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe 
 
 That unsubstantial death is amorous. 
 
 And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
 
 Thee here in dark to be his paramour? 
 
 For fear of that, I still will stay with thee : 
 
 And never from this palace of dim night 
 
 Depart again : here, here will I remain 
 
 With worms that are thy chamber-maids ; O, here 
 
 Will I set up my everlasting rest. 
 
 And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
 
 From this world- wearied flesh. Eyes, look your 
 
 bst ! 
 Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you 
 The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
 A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! 
 Come, bitter conduct,* come, unsavoury guide ! 
 Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
 The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark ! 
 Here 's to my love ! [Drinks. '\ O true apothecary ! 
 Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. 
 
 IDies. 
 
 1 Conductor. 
 
TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 PAINTING. 
 
 The painting is almost the natural man ; 
 For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature, 
 He is but outside : these pencill'd figures are 
 Even such as they give out.' 
 
 THE PLEASURE OF DOING GOOD. 
 
 O you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, 
 if we should ne'er have need of 'em? they were the 
 most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have 
 use for 'em, and would most resemble sweet instru- 
 ments hung up in cases that keep their sounds to 
 themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, 
 that I might come nearer to you. We are born to 
 do benefits : and what better or properer can we call 
 our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a 
 precious comfort 't is, to have so many, like brothers, 
 commanding one another's fortunes ! 
 
 I Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be. 
 
Timon of Athens, 205 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 A FAITHFUL STEWARD. 
 
 So the gods bless me, 
 When all our offices ^ have been oppressed 
 With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept 
 With drunken spilth of wine, when every room 
 Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy, 
 I have retired me to a wasteful cock,^ 
 And set mine eyes at flow. 
 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 They answer, in a joint and corporate voice. 
 That now they are at fall,^ want treasure, cannot 
 Do what they would ; are sorry -^ you are honour- 
 able, — 
 But yet they could have wish'd — they know not — 
 Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 
 May catch a wrench — would all were well — ''t is 
 
 pity ; — 
 And so, intending * other serious matters, 
 After distasteful looks and these hard fractions,* 
 With certain half-caps ® and cold-moving nods 
 They froze me into silence. 
 
 1 The apartment allotted to culinary offices, etc. 
 
 2 A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste, 
 s i.e. at an ebb. 
 
 * Intending' had anciently the same meaning as attending. 
 
 " Broken hints, abrupt remarks. 
 
 8 A half-cap slightly moved, not put off. 
 
2o6 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 THE MISERABLE SHIFTS OF INGRATITUDE* 
 
 Servilius. My honoured lord, — \To Lucius. 
 
 Lticius. Servilius ! you are kindly met, sir. Fare 
 thee well : commend me to thy honourable virtuous 
 lord, my very exquisite friend. 
 
 Ser. May it please your honour, my lord hath 
 sent — 
 
 Lmc. Ha ! what has he sent ? I am so much 
 endeared to that lord ; he 's ever sending : how shall 
 I thank him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent 
 now? 
 
 Ser. Has only sent his present occasion now, my 
 lord ; requesting your lordship to supply his instant 
 use with so many talents, 
 
 Luc. I know his lordship is but merry with me ; 
 He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. 
 
 Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. 
 If his occasion were not virtuous,' 
 I should not urge it half so faithfully. 
 
 Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? 
 
 Ser. Upon my soul, 't is true, sir. 
 
 Luc. What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish my- 
 self against such a good time, when I might ha' 
 shown myself honourable ! how unluckily it happened, 
 that I should purchase the day before for a little part, 
 and undo a great deal of honour ! Servilius, now, 
 
 1 " If he did not want it for a good use." 
 
 . V 
 
Timon of Athens, 207 
 
 before the gods, I am not able to do, — the more 
 beast, 1 say : — I was sending to use Lord Timon 
 myself, these gentlemen can witness ; but I would 
 not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done 't now. 
 Commend me bountifully to his good lordship ; and 
 I hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me, 
 because I have no power to be kind : and tell him 
 this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions, 
 say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gen- 
 tleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, 
 as to use mine own words to him? 
 
 Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 
 
 Luc. I '11 look you out a good turn, Servilius. 
 
 [^Exit Servilius. 
 True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed ; 
 And he that 's once denied will hardly speed. 
 
 AGAINST DUELLING. 
 
 Your words have took such pains as if they laboured 
 
 To bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling 
 
 Upon the head of valour ; which indeed 
 
 Is valour misbegot and came into the world 
 
 When sects and factions were newly born : 
 
 He 's truly valiant that can wisely suffer 
 
 The worst that man can breathe, and make hi? 
 
 wrongs 
 His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, car*» 
 
 lessly. 
 And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, 
 To bring it into danger. 
 
2o8 Beauties of Shahspeare, 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 TIMON'S execration of the ATHENIANS. 
 
 Scene. Without the walls of Athens. 
 Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall, 
 That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth, 
 And fence not Athens ! Matrons, turn incontinent ! 
 Obedience fail in children ! slaves and fools, 
 Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench. 
 And minister in their steads ! to general filths ^ 
 Convert o' the instant, green virginity. 
 Do 't in your parents' eyes ! bankrupts, hold fast ; 
 Rather than render back, out with your knives. 
 And cut your trusters' throats ! bound servants, steal ! 
 Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, 
 And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed ; 
 Thy mistress is o' the brothel ! Son of sixteen. 
 Pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire, 
 With it beat out his brains ! Piety, and fear, 
 Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth. 
 Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, 
 Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, 
 Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, 
 Decline to your confounding contraries,'* 
 And let confusion live ! Plagues, incident to men. 
 Your potent and infectious fevers heap 
 On Athens, ripe for stroke ! thou cold sciatica, 
 
 1 Common sewers. 
 
 * i.e. Contrarieties, whose nature it is to waste or destroy each 
 other. 
 
Timon of Athens. 209 
 
 Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt 
 As lamely as their manners ! lust and liberty ' 
 Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, 
 Tkat 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive. 
 And drown themselves in riot ! itches, blains, 
 Sow all the Athenian bosoms ; and their crop 
 Be general leprosy ! Breath infect breath, 
 That their society, as their friendship, may 
 Be merely poison ! Nothing I '11 bear from thee, 
 But nakedness, thou detestable town ! 
 
 A FRIEND FORSAKEN. 
 
 As we do turn our backs 
 From our companion thrown into his grave, 
 So his familiars to his buried fortunes 
 Slink all away, leave their false vows with him. 
 Like empty purses pick'd ; and his poor self, 
 A dedicated beggar to the air, 
 With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty. 
 Walks, like contempt, alone. 
 
 ON GOLD. 
 
 Earth, yield me roots ! \Diggme:. 
 Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate 
 With thy most operant poison ! What is here ? 
 Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, 
 I am no idle votarist :^ roots, you clear heavens ! 
 
 I For libertinism. 
 
 ' No insincere or inconstant supplicant. Gold vrill not serve 
 me instead of roots. 
 
2IO Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, 
 Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. 
 Ha, you gods! why this? What this, you gods? 
 
 Why, this 
 Will lug your priests and servants from your sides. 
 Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads : 
 This yellow slave 
 
 Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed. 
 Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves 
 And give them title, knee and approbation 
 With senators on the bench : this is it 
 That makes the wappen'd ^ widow wed again ; 
 She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores 
 Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices 
 To the April day again. ^ Come, damned earth, 
 Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds 
 Among the rout of nations, I will make thee 
 Do thy right nature. 
 
 TIMON TO ALCIBIADES. 
 
 Go on, — here 's gold, — go on ; 
 Be as a planetary plague, when Jove 
 Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison 
 In the sick air : let not thy sword skip one : 
 Pity not honour'd age for his white beard ; 
 He is an usurer : strike me the counterfeit matron ; 
 It is her habit only that is honest, 
 
 i Sorrowful. 
 
 ' t.e. Gold restores her to all the sweetness and freshness ot 
 youth. 
 
Timon of Athens. 211 
 
 Herself 's a bawd : let not the virgin's cheek 
 Make soft thy trenchant 1 sword ; for those milk- 
 paps, 
 That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, 
 Are not within the leaf of pity writ, 
 But set them down horrible traitors : spare not the 
 
 babe. 
 Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their 
 
 mercy ; 
 Think it a bastard, " whom the oracle 
 Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut. 
 And mince it sans remorse : ^ swear against objects ;* 
 Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes ; 
 Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes. 
 Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding. 
 Shall pierce a jot. There 's gold to pay thy soldiers : 
 Make large confusion ; and, thy fury spent. 
 Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. 
 
 TO THE COURTESANS. 
 
 Consumptions sow 
 In hollow bones of man : strike their sharp shins. 
 And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice. 
 That he may never more false title plead, 
 Nor sound his quillets ^ shrilly : hoar the flamen, 
 That scolds against the quality of flesh, 
 
 1 Cutting. 
 
 2An allusion to the tale of Oedipus. 
 
 8 Without pity. 
 
 * i.e. against objects of charity and compassion. 
 
 ^Subtilties. 
 
212 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And not believes himself: down with the nose, 
 
 Down with it flat ; take the bridge quite away 
 
 Of him that, his particular to foresee, 
 
 Smells from the general weal : make curPd-pate 
 
 ruffians bald ; 
 And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war 
 Derive some pain from you. 
 
 HIS REFLECTIONS ON THE EARTH. 
 
 That nature, being sick of man's unkindness. 
 Should yet be hungry ! Common mother, thou, 
 
 IDigging. 
 Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, • 
 Teems, and feeds all ; whose self-same mettle. 
 Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is pufF'd, 
 Engenders the black toad and adder blue. 
 The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm,'^ 
 With all the abhorred births below crisp ^ heaven 
 Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine ; 
 Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, 
 From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root ! 
 Ensear thy fertile and conceptions womb. 
 Let it no more bring out ingrateful man ! 
 Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears ; 
 Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face 
 Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
 Never presented ! — O, a root, — dear thanks ! — 
 Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas ; 
 
 1 Boundless surface. 
 
 * The serpent called the blind worm. » Bent. 
 
Timon of Athens, 213 
 
 Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts 
 And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, 
 That from it all consideration slips ! 
 
 HIS DISCOURSE WITH APEMANTUS. 
 
 Apemantus, This is in thee a nature but infected ; 
 A poor unmanly melancholy sprung 
 From change of fortune. Why this spade ? this place ? 
 This slave-like habit ? and these looks of care ? 
 Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft ; 
 Hug their diseased perfumes,' a»d have forgot 
 That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods. 
 By putting on the cunning of a carper."^ 
 Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive 
 By that which has undone thee : hinge thy knee. 
 And let his very breath, whom thou 'It observe. 
 Blow off" thy cap ; praise his most vicious strain, 
 And call it excellent : thou wast told thus ; 
 Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome 
 To knaves and all approachers : 't is most just 
 That thou turn rascal ; hadst thou wealth again. 
 Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness. 
 
 Timon. Were I like thee, I 'Id throw away myself. 
 
 4pem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like 
 thyself; 
 A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st 
 That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, 
 Will put thy shirt on warm ? Will these moss'd trees, 
 
 * i.e. Their diseased perfumed mistresses. 
 ' i.e. Shame not these woods by finding fault. 
 
214 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels, 
 
 And skip where thou point'st out? Will the cold 
 
 brook, 
 Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, 
 To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? call the creatures 
 Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
 Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks, 
 To the conflicting elements exposed. 
 Answer mere nature ; bid them flatter thee ; 
 O, thou shalt find — 
 
 Tim. Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender 
 arm 
 With favour never clasped ; but bred a dog. 
 Hadst thou, like us from our first swarth,^ proceeded 
 The sweet degrees that this brief world affords 
 To such as may the passive drugs of it 
 Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself 
 In general riot ; melted down thy youth 
 In different beds of lust ; and never learn'd 
 The icy precepts of respect,^ but followed 
 The sugar'd game before thee. But myself, 
 Who had the world as my confectionary. 
 The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men 
 At duty, more than I could frame employment, 
 That numberless upon me stuck as leaves 
 Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush 
 Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare 
 For every storm that blows : I, to bear this, 
 
 1 From infancy. 
 
 ' The cold admonitions of cautious prudence. 
 
Timon of Athens. 215 
 
 That never knew but better, i» some burden : 
 Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time 
 Hath made thee hard in 't. Why shouldst thou hate 
 
 men? 
 They never flattered thee : what hast thou given ? 
 If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag. 
 Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff 
 To some she beggar and compounded thee 
 Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone ! 
 If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, 
 Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer. 
 
 ON GOip. 
 
 [To the gold. 'I O thou sweet king-killer, and dear 
 
 divorce 
 'Twixt natural son and sire ! thou bright defiler 
 Of Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars ! 
 Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer, 
 Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
 That lies on Dian's lap ! thou visible god. 
 That solder'st close impossibilities. 
 And makest them kiss ! that speak'st with every 
 
 tongue. 
 To every purpose ! O thou touch ^ of hearts ! 
 Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue 
 Set them into confounding odds, that beasts 
 May have the world in empire ! 
 
 1 For touchstone. 
 
2i6 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 TIMON TO THE THIEVES. 
 
 Why should you want? behold, the earth hath roots 
 Within tills mile break forth a hundred springs ; 
 The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips : 
 The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush 
 Lays her full mess before you. Want ! why want? 
 
 ist Bandit. We cannot live on grass, on berries, 
 water, 
 As beasts and birds and fishes. 
 
 Timon. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, 
 and fishes ; 
 You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con 
 That you are thieves professed, that you work not 
 In holier shapes : for there is boundless theft 
 In limited ^ professions. Rascal thieves, 
 Here 's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the 
 
 grape, 
 Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, 
 And so 'scape hanging : trust not the physician ; 
 His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
 More than you rob : take wealth and lives together ; 
 Do villany, do, since you protest to do 't. 
 Like workmen. I Ul example you with thievery : 
 The sun 's a thief, and with his great attraction 
 Robs the vast sea : the moon 's an arrant thief. 
 And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : 
 The sea 's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
 The moon into salt tears : the earth 's a thief, 
 
 1 For legal. 
 
Timon of Athens, 217 
 
 That feeds and breeds by a composture ^ stolen 
 From general excrement: each thing ^s a thief: 
 The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power 
 Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves : away, 
 Rob one another. There 's more gold. Cut throats : 
 All that you meet are thieves : to Athens go, 
 Break open shops ; nothing can you steal, 
 But thieves do lose it. 
 
 ON HIS HONEST STEWARD. 
 
 Forgive my general and exceptless rashness. 
 You perpetual-sober gods ! I do proclaim 
 One honest man - — mistake me not — but one ; 
 No more, I pray, — and he 's a steward. 
 How fain would I have hated all mankind ! 
 And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee, 
 I fell with curses. 
 
 Methinks thou art more honest now than wise ; 
 For, by oppressing and betraying me, 
 Thou mightst have sooner got another service : 
 For many so arrive at second masters, 
 Upon their first lord's neck. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 PROMISING AND PERFORMANCE. 
 
 Promising is the very air o' the time : it opens the 
 eyes of expectation : performance is ever the duller 
 
 1 Compost, manure. 
 
2i8 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 for his act ; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind 
 of people, the deed of saying * is quite out of use. 
 To promise is most courtly and fashionable : per- 
 formance is a kind of will or testament which argues 
 a great sickness in his judgment that makes it. 
 
 WRONG AND INSOLENCE. 
 
 Now breathless wrong 
 Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease. 
 And pursy insolence shall break his wind 
 With fear and horrid flight. 
 
 ^ The doing of that we said we would do. 
 
TITUS ANDRONICUS. 
 ACT I. 
 
 MERCY. 
 
 Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods ? 
 Draw near them then in being merciful : 
 Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. 
 
 THANKS. 
 
 Thanks to men 
 Of noble minds is honourable meed. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 INVITATION TO LOVE. 
 
 The birds chant melody on every bush. 
 The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, 
 The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind 
 And make a chequered shadow on the ground : 
 Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit. 
 And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, 
 Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, 
 As if a double hunt were heard at once, 
 
220 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise ; 
 And, after conflict such as was supposed 
 The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd. 
 When with a happy storm they were surprised 
 And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave, 
 We may, each wreathed in the other's arms. 
 Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber ; 
 Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds 
 Be unto us as is a nurse's song 
 Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A MELANCHOLY VALLEY. 
 
 A barren detested vale,, you see it is ; 
 
 The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean. 
 
 Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe : 
 
 Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds, 
 
 Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven : 
 
 And when they showed me this abhorred pit, 
 
 They told me, here, at dead time of the night, 
 
 A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, 
 
 Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,' 
 
 Would make such fearful and confused cries 
 
 As any mortal body hearing it 
 
 Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A RING. 
 
 Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
 
 A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, 
 
 * Hedge-hogs 
 
Titus Andronicus, 221 
 
 Which, like a taper in some monument, 
 
 Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, 
 
 And shows the ragged entrails of the pit. 
 
 LAVINIA AND HER LUTE. 
 
 Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue. 
 
 And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind : 
 
 But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee ; 
 
 A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, 
 
 And he hath cut those pretty fingers off. 
 
 That could have better sew'd than Philomel. 
 
 O, had the monster seen those lily hands 
 
 Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute. 
 
 And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, 
 
 He would not then have touch'd them for his life ! 
 
 Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony 
 
 Which that sweet tongue hath made, 
 
 He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep 
 
 As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's ^ feet. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 lavinia's loss of her tongue described. 
 
 O, that delightful engine of her thoughts. 
 That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, 
 Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, 
 Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
 Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear ! 
 
 1 Orpheus. 
 
2 22 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 For now I stand as one upon a rock 
 Environ'd with a wilderness of sea, 
 Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, 
 Expecting ever when some envious surge 
 Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears 
 Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew 
 Upon a gathered lily almost witherM. 
 
 CRUELTY TO INSECTS. 
 
 Marcus. Alas, my lord, I have but kilPd a fly. 
 
 Tzl7is. But how, if that fly had a father and 
 mother? 
 How would he hang his slender gilded wings, 
 And buzz lamenting doings in the air ! 
 Poor harmless fly, 
 
 That, with his pretty buzzing melody, 
 Came here to make us merry ! and thou hast kill'd 
 
 him. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stand ; 
 Now give some surance that thou art Revenge, 
 
Titus Andronicus. 223 
 
 Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels; 
 And then I '11 come and be thy waggoner, 
 And whirl along with thee about the globe. 
 Provide thee two proper palfries, black as jet, 
 To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, 
 And find out murderers in their guilty caves : 
 And when thy car is loaden with their heads, 
 I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel 
 Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, 
 Even from Hyperion's rising in the east 
 Until his very downfall in the sea. 
 
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 
 ACT I. 
 
 LOVE IN A BRAVE YOUNG SOLDIER. 
 
 Call here my varlet ; M '11 unarm again : 
 Why should I war without the walls of Troy, 
 That find such cruel battle here within? 
 Each Trojan that is master of his heart, 
 Let him to field; Troilus, alas ! hath none. 
 
 The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength. 
 Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant ; 
 But I am weaker than a woman's tear. 
 Tamer than sleep, fonder ^ than ignorance. 
 Less valiant than the virgin in the night 
 And skilless as unpractised infancy. 
 
 O Pandarus ! I tell thee, Pandarus, — 
 
 When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, 
 
 Reply not in how many fathoms deep 
 
 They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad 
 
 In Cressid's love : thou answer'st ' She is fair ; ' 
 
 Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
 
 1 A servant to a knight. 2 Weaker. 
 
Troilus and Cressida, 225 
 
 Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, 
 Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her hand. 
 In whose comparison all whites are ink. 
 Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure 
 The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense 
 Hard as the palm of ploughmen : this thou telPst me. 
 As true thou telPst me, when I say I love her ; 
 But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, 
 Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me 
 The knife that made it. 
 
 SUCCESS NOT EQUAL TO OUR HOPES. 
 
 The ample proposition that hope makes 
 
 In all designs begun on earth below 
 
 Fails in the promised largeness : checks and disasters 
 
 Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd, 
 
 As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap. 
 
 Infect the sound pine and divert his grain 
 
 Tortive and errant * from his course of growth. 
 
 ADVERSITY THE TRIAL OF MAN. 
 
 Why then, you princes, 
 Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works. 
 And call them shames ? which are indeed nought else 
 But the protractive trials of great Jove 
 To find persistive constancy in men : 
 The fineness of which metal is not found 
 In fortune's love ; for then the bold and coward, 
 
 1 Twisted and rambling. 
 
226 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 The wise and fool, the artist and unread, 
 The hard and soft, seem all affined ' and kin : 
 But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, 
 Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, 
 Puffing at all, winnows the light away ; 
 And what hath mass or matter, by itself 
 Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. 
 
 ON DEGREE. 
 
 Take but degree away, untune that string. 
 
 And, hark, what discord follows ! each thing meets 
 
 In mere * oppugnancy : the bounded waters 
 
 Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores 
 
 And make a sop of all this solid globe : 
 
 Strength should be lord of imbecility, 
 
 And the rude son should strike his father dead : 
 
 Force should be right ; or rather, right and wrong. 
 
 Between whose endless jar justice resides. 
 
 Should lose their names, and so should justice too. 
 
 Then every thing includes itself in power, 
 
 Power into will, will into appetite ; 
 
 And appetite, an universal wolf. 
 
 So doubly seconded with will and power. 
 
 Must make perforce an universal prey, 
 
 And last eat up himself. 
 
 ACHILLES DESCRIBED BY ULYSSES. 
 
 The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns 
 The sinew and the forehand of our host, 
 
 1 Joined by affinity. « Absolute. 
 
Troilus and Cressida. 227 
 
 Having his ear full of his airy fame, 
 
 Grows dainty of his worth and in his tent 
 
 Lies mocking our designs : with him Patroclus 
 
 Upon a lazy bed the livelong day 
 
 Breaks scurril jests, 
 
 And with ridiculous and awkward action, 
 
 Which, slanderer, he imitation calls. 
 
 He pageants ^ us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, 
 
 Thy topless ^ deputation he puts on, 
 
 And, like a strutting player, whose conceit 
 
 Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich 
 
 To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 
 
 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,^ — 
 
 Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming 
 
 He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks, 
 
 'T is like a chime a-mending ; with terms unsquared,* 
 
 Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropped. 
 
 Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff 
 
 The large Achilles, on his pressed bed lolling, 
 
 From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ; 
 
 Cries ' Excellent ! 't is Agamemnon just. 
 
 Now play me Nestor ; hem, and stroke thy beard, 
 
 As he being drest to some oration.' 
 
 That 's done, as near as the extremest ends 
 
 Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife : 
 
 Yet god Achilles still cries ' Excellent ! 
 
 'T is Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, 
 
 Arming to answer in a night alarm.' 
 
 1 In modern language, takes us off. 
 
 * Supreme. 3 'J'he galleries of the theatre. 
 
 * Beyond the truth. Unadapted. 
 
2 28 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age 
 Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough and spit. 
 And, with a palsy-fumbHng on his gorget. 
 Shake in and out the rivet : and at this sport 
 Sir Valour dies; cries ' O, enough, Patroclus ; 
 Or give me ribs of steel ! I shall split all 
 In pleasure of my spleen.' And in this fashion. 
 All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, 
 Severals and generals of grace exact, 
 Achievements, plots, orders, preventions. 
 Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, 
 Success or loss, what is or is not, serves 
 As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. 
 
 CONDUCT IN WAR SUPERIOR TO ACTION. 
 
 The still and mental parts. 
 That do contrive how many hands shall strike. 
 When fitness calls them on, and know by measure 
 Of their observant toil the enemies' weight, — 
 Why, this hath not a finger's dignity : 
 They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war; 
 So that the ram that batters down the wall. 
 For the great swing and rudeness of his poise. 
 They place before his hand that made the engine. 
 Or those that with the fineness of their souls 
 By reason guide his execution. 
 
 RESPECT. 
 
 I ask, that I might waken reverence. 
 And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
 
Troilus and Cressida. 229 
 
 Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
 The youthful Phoebus. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 DOUBT. 
 
 The wound of peace is surety, 
 Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd 
 The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
 To the bottom of the worst. 
 
 PLEASURE AND REVENGE. 
 
 For pleasure and revenge 
 Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
 Of any true decision. 
 
 THE SUBTILTY OF ULYSSES, AND STUPIDITY OF 
 AJAX. 
 
 Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the en- 
 gendering of toads. 
 
 Nestor. Yet he loves himself: is 't not strange? 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 Ulysses. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. 
 
 Agamermiou. What's his excuse? 
 
 Ulyss. He doth rely on none, 
 
 But carries on the stream of his dispose 
 Without observance or respect of any, 
 In will peculiar and in self-admission. 
 
230 Beauties of Shahspeare, 
 
 Again. Why will he not upon our fair request 
 Untent his person and share the air with us? 
 
 Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake 
 only, 
 He makes important : possessed he is with greatness, 
 And speaks not to himself but with a pride 
 That quarrels at self-breath : imagined worth 
 Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse 
 That 'twixt his mental and his active parts 
 Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages 
 And batters down himself: what should I say? 
 He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it 
 Cry, * No recovery.' 
 
 Agam. Let Ajax go to him. 
 
 Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent : 
 'T is said he holds you well, and will be led 
 At your request a little from himself. 
 
 Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so ! 
 We '11 consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
 When they go from Achilles : shall the proud lord 
 That bastes his arrogance with his own seam ' 
 And never suffers matter of the world 
 Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve 
 And ruminate himself, shall he be worshipp'd 
 Of that we hold an idol more than he? 
 No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord 
 Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired ; 
 Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, 
 As amply titled as Achilles is, 
 By going to Achilles : 
 
 »Fat. 
 
Troilus and Cressida. 231 
 
 That were to enlard his fat already pride 
 
 And add more coals to Cancer ' when he burns 
 
 With entertaining great Hyperion. 
 
 This lord go to him ! Jupiter forbid, 
 
 And say in thunder ' Achilles go to him.' 
 
 JVesL [Aside to Diojnedes.~\ O, this is well ; he 
 
 rubs the vein of him. 
 Diomedes. [Aside to Nestor. '\ And how his 
 
 silence drinks up this applause ! 
 Ajax. If I go to him, with my armed fist I '11 
 pash 2 him 
 O'er the face. 
 
 Again. O, no, you shall not go. 
 
 Ajax. And a' be proud with me, I "11 pheeze ^ his 
 pride : 
 Let me go to him. 
 
 Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon our 
 
 quarrel. 
 Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow ! — 
 Nest. How he describes 
 
 Himself! 
 
 Ajax. Can he not be sociable? 
 Ulyss. The raven 
 
 Chides blackness. 
 
 Ajax. I '11 let his humours blood. 
 
 Agam. He will be the physician that should be 
 the patient. 
 
 iThe sign in the zodiac into which the sun enters June 2ist. 
 '• And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze." — Thomson. 
 2 Strike. » Comb, or curry. 
 
232 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Ajar. An all men 
 Were o' my mind, — 
 
 Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. 
 
 Ajar. A' should not bear it so, 
 A' should eat swords first : shall pride carry it ? 
 Nest. An 't would, you Ud carry half. 
 Ulyss. A' would have ten shares. 
 
 Ajax. I will knead him ; I '11 make him supple. 
 Nest. He 's not yet through warm : force ' him 
 with praises : 
 Pour in, pour in ; his ambition is dry. 
 
 Ulyss. \To Again. '\ My lord, you feed too much 
 
 on this dislike. 
 Nest. Our noble general, do not do so. 
 Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles. 
 Ulyss. Why, \ is this naming of him does him 
 harm. 
 Here is a man — but 't is before his face ; 
 I will be silent. 
 
 Nest. Wherefore should you so ? 
 
 He is not emulous,^ as Achilles is. 
 
 Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. 
 Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter ^ thus 
 with us ! 
 Would he were a Trojan ! 
 
 Nest. What a vice were it in Ajax now, — 
 Ulyss. If he were proud, — 
 
 Dio. Or covetous of praise, — 
 Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne, — 
 
 Dio. Or strange, or self-aifected ! 
 
 1 Stuff. 2 Envious. » Trifle. 
 
Troilus and Cressida, 233 
 
 Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet 
 composure ; 
 Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck : 
 Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature 
 Thrice famed, beyond all erudition : 
 But he that disciplined thy arms to fight, 
 Let Mars divide eternity in twain, 
 And give him half: and, for thy vigour, 
 Bull-bearing Milo his addition ' yield 
 To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, 
 Which, like a bourn, ^ a pale, a shore, confines 
 Thy spacious and dilated parts : here 's Nestor ; 
 Instructed by the antiquary times, 
 He must, he is, he cannot but be wise : 
 But pardon, father Nestor, were your days 
 As green as Ajax' and your brain so tempered, 
 You should not have the eminence of him. 
 But be as Ajax. 
 
 Ajax. Shall I call you father? 
 
 Nest. Ay, my good son. 
 
 Dio. Be ruled by him, lord Ajax. 
 
 Ulyss. There is no tarrying here ; the hart 
 Achilles 
 Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 
 To call together all his state of war ; 
 Fresh kings are come to Troy : to-morrow 
 We must with all our main of power stand fast : 
 And here 's a lord, — come knights from east to 
 
 west. 
 And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. 
 
 1 Tides. * Stream, rivulet. 
 
234 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep : 
 Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw 
 deep. 
 
 ACT in. 
 
 AN EXPECTANT LOVER. 
 
 No, Pandarus : I stalk -about her door. 
 Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 
 Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, 
 And give me swift transportance to those fields 
 Where I may wallow in the lily-beds 
 Proposed for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus, 
 From Cupid^s shoulder pluck his painted wings. 
 And fly with me to Cressid ! 
 
 I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. 
 
 The imaginary relish is so sweet 
 
 That it enchants my sense : what will it be, 
 
 When that the watery palate tastes indeed 
 
 Love's thrice repured nectar? death, I fear me, 
 
 Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine. 
 
 Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness, 
 
 For the capacity of my ruder powers : 
 
 I fear it much ; and I do fear besides. 
 
 That I shall lose distinction in my joys ; 
 
 As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps 
 
 The enemy flying. 
 
 Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom : 
 
Troiliis and Cressida, 235 
 
 My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse ; 
 And all my powers do their bestowing lose, 
 Like vassalage at unawares encountering 
 The eye of majesty. 
 
 CONSTANCY IN LOVE PROTESTED. 
 
 Troilus. True swains in love shall in the world 
 to come 
 Approve their tmths by Troilus : when their rhymes. 
 Full of protest, of oath and big compare, ' 
 Want similes, truth tired with iteration. 
 As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 
 As sun to day, as turtle to her mate. 
 As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, 
 Yet, after all comparisons of truth. 
 As truth's authentic author to be cited, 
 * As true as Troilus ' shall crown up 2 the verse, 
 And sanctify the numbers. 
 
 Cressida. Prophet may you be ! 
 
 If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, 
 When time is old and hath forgot itself. 
 When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, 
 And blind oblivion swallowed cities up, 
 And mighty states characterless are grated 
 To dusty nothing, yet let memory. 
 From false to false, among false maids in love, 
 Upbraid my falsehood ! when they Ve said ' as false 
 As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, 
 As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
 
 1 Comparison. 2 Conclude it. 
 
236 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,' 
 
 ' Yea,' let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 
 
 ' As false as Cressid.' 
 
 PRIDE CURES PRIDE. 
 
 Pride hath no other glass 
 To show itself but pride, for supple knees 
 Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees. 
 
 GREATNESS CONTEMPTIBLE WHEN ON THE DECLINE. 
 
 'T is certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, 
 
 Must fall out with men too : what the declined is 
 
 He shall as soon read in the eyes of others 
 
 As feel in his own fall ; for men, like butterflies, 
 
 Show not their mealy wings but to the summer, 
 
 And not a man, for being simply man. 
 
 Hath any honour, but honour for those honours 
 
 That are without him, as place, riches, favour. 
 
 Prizes of accident as oft as merit : 
 
 Which when they fall, as being slippery standers. 
 
 The love that lean'd on them as slippery too. 
 
 Do one pluck down another and together 
 
 Die in the fall. 
 
 HONOUR MUST BE ACTIVE TO PRESERVE ITS LUSTRE. 
 
 Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back. 
 
 Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, 
 
 A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : 
 
 Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour 'd 
 
Troilus and Cressida. 237 
 
 As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
 
 As done : perseverance, dear my lord, 
 
 Keeps honour bright : to have done is to hang 
 
 Quite out of fashion, Hke a rusty mail 
 
 In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; 
 
 For honour travels in a strait so narrow. 
 
 Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path ; 
 
 For emulation hath a thousand sons » 
 
 That one by one pursue : if you give way, 
 
 Or hedge aside from the direct forthright. 
 
 Like to an entered tide, they all rush by 
 
 And leave you hindmost ; 
 
 Or, like a gallant horse falPn in first rank, 
 
 Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, 
 
 O'er-run and trampled on : then what they do in 
 
 present, 
 Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours ; 
 For Time is like a fashionable host 
 That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, 
 And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly, 
 Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles, 
 And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek 
 Remuneration for the thing it was ; 
 For beauty, wit. 
 
 High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, 
 Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 
 To envious and calumniating time. 
 One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. 
 That all with one consent praise new-born gawds,* 
 Though they are made and moulded of things past, 
 
 1 New-fashioned toys. 
 
238 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 And give to dust that is a little gilt 
 
 More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. 
 
 The present eye praises the present object. 
 
 LOVE SHOOK OFF BY A SOLDIER. 
 
 Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid 
 Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, 
 And, like a dew-drop from the lion^s mane, 
 Be shook to air. 
 
 THERSITES MIMICKING AJAX. 
 
 Thersites. A wonder ! 
 
 Achilles. What? 
 
 Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking 
 for himself. 
 
 Achil. How so? 
 
 Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hec- 
 tor, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical 
 cudgelling that he raves in saying -nothing. 
 
 Achil. How can that be? 
 
 Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a pea- 
 cock, — a stride and a stand : ruminates like an 
 hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set 
 down her reckoning : bites his lip with a politic re- 
 gard, as who should say ' There were wit in this 
 head, and 't would out ; ' and so there is, but it lies 
 as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show 
 without knocking. The man's undone for ever; for 
 if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he'll 
 break 't himself in vain-glory. He knows not me : I 
 
Troilus and Cressida, 239 
 
 said ' Good morrow, Ajax;' and he replies ' Thanks, 
 Agamemnon.' What think you of this man that 
 takes me for the general ? He 's grown a very land- 
 fish, languageless, a monster. A plague of opinion ! 
 a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather 
 jerkin. 
 
 Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, 
 Thersites. 
 
 Ther. Who, I ? Why, he '11 answer nobody ; he 
 professes not answering : speaking is for beggars ; he 
 wears his tongue in 's arms. I will put on his pres- 
 ence : let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall 
 see the pageant of Ajax. 
 
 Achil. To him, Patroclus : tell him I humbly de- 
 sire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous 
 Hector to come unarmed to my tent, and to procure 
 safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous and 
 most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honoured captain- 
 general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, et cetera. 
 Do this. 
 
 Patroclus. Jove bless great Ajax ! 
 
 Ther. Hum ! 
 
 Pair. I come from the worthy Achilles, — 
 
 Ther. Ha ! 
 
 Pair. Who most humbly desires you to invite 
 Hector to his tent, — 
 
 Ther. Hum ! 
 
 Pair. And to procure safe-conduct from Aga- 
 memnon. 
 
 Ther. Agamemnon ! 
 
 Pair. Ay, my lord. 
 
240 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 Ther. Ha ! 
 
 Pair. What say you to 't ? 
 
 Ther. God b^ wi' you, with all my heart. 
 
 Patr. Your answer, sir. 
 
 Ther, If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven 
 o'clock it will go one way or other : howsoever, he 
 shall pay for me ere he has me. 
 
 Patr. Your answer, sir. 
 
 Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. 
 
 Achil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? 
 
 Ther. No, but he 's out o' tune thus. What 
 music will be in him when Hector has knocked out 
 his brains, I know not ; but, I am sure, none, unless 
 the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings ' on. 
 
 Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him 
 straight. 
 
 Ther. Let me bear another to his horse ; for 
 that 's the more capable 2 creature. 
 
 Achil. My mind is troubled, like a fountain 
 stirr'd ; 
 And I myself see not the bottom of it. 
 
 \Excimt Achilles and Patroclus. 
 
 Ther. Would the fountain of your mind were 
 clear again, that I might water an ass at it ! I had 
 rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant igno- 
 rance. 
 
 » Lute-strings made of catgut. • Intelligent. 
 
Troilus and Cressida. 241 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 LOVERS PARTING IN THE MORNING. 
 
 Troilus. O Cressida ! but that the busy day, 
 Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald ^ crows, 
 And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, 
 I would not from thee. 
 
 Cressida. Night hath been too brief. 
 
 Tro. Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights 
 she stays 
 As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love 
 With wings more momentary-swift than thought. 
 
 A lover's farewell. 
 
 Injurious time now with a robber's haste 
 
 Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how : 
 
 As many farewells as be stars in heaven. 
 
 With distinct breath and consigned '^ kisses to them. 
 
 He fumbles up into a loose adieu. 
 
 And scants us with a single famished kiss, 
 
 Distasted with the salt of broken^ tears. 
 
 troilus' character of the GRECIAN YOUTHS. 
 
 The Grecian youths are full of quality ; * 
 They 're loving, well composed with gifts of nature 
 flowing 
 
 1 Lewd, noisy. ■'Sealed. 
 
 8 Interrupted. * Highly accomplished. 
 
242 Beauties of Shakspeare. 
 
 And swelling o'er with arts and exercise : 
 How novelty may move, and parts with person, 
 Alas, a kind of godly jealousy — 
 Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin — 
 Makes me afeard. 
 
 A TRUMPETER. 
 
 Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe : 
 
 Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek 
 
 Out swell the colic of puff'd Aquilon : 
 
 Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout 
 
 blood ; 
 Thou blow'st for Hector. 
 
 DIOMEDES' MANNER OF WALKING. 
 
 'T is he, I ken the manner of his gait ; 
 He rises on the toe : that spirit of his 
 In aspiration lifts him from the earth. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF CRESSIDA. 
 
 There 's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, 
 Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out 
 At every joint and motive ' of her body. 
 O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue. 
 That give accosting welcome ere it comes. 
 And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
 To every ticklish reader ! set them down 
 
 1 Motion. 
 
Troilus and Cressida, 243 
 
 For sluttish spoils of opportunity 
 And daughters of the game. 
 
 CHARACTER OF TROILUS. 
 
 The youngest son of Priam, a true knight, 
 Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word, 
 Speaking in deeds and deedless ^ in his tongue ; 
 Not soon provoked nor being provoked soon calm'd ; 
 His heart and hand both open and both free ; 
 For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows ; 
 Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty. 
 Nor dignifies an impair ^ thought with breath ; 
 Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ; 
 For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes ^ 
 To tender objects, but he in heat of action 
 Is more vindicative than jealous love. 
 
 HECTOR IN BATTLE. 
 
 I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft 
 
 Labouring for destiny make cruel way 
 
 Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen 
 
 thee. 
 As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed. 
 Despising many forfeits and subduements. 
 When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air. 
 Not letting it decline on the declined,^ 
 That I have said to some my standers by 
 ' Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life ! ' 
 
 I No boaster. 2 Unsuitable to his character. 
 
 3 Yields, gives way. * Fallen. 
 
244 Beauties of Shakspeare, 
 
 And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath. 
 When that a ring of Greeks have hemmed thee m. 
 Like an Olympian wrestling. 
 
 ACHILLES SURVEYING HECTOR. 
 
 Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body 
 Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there? 
 That I may give the local wound a name 
 And make distinct the very breach whereout 
 Hector's great spirit flew : answer me, heavens ! 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 RASH VOWS. 
 
 The gods are deaf to hot and peevish ^ vows : 
 They are polluted offerings, more abhorred 
 Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. 
 
 HONOUR MORE DEAR THAN LIFE. 
 
 Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate : 
 Life every man holds dear ; but the brave man 
 Holds honour far more precious-dear'^ than life. 
 
 PITY TO BE DISCARDED IN WAR. 
 
 For the love of all the gods 
 Let 's leave the hermit pity with our mothers, 
 And when we have our armours buckled on, 
 The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords. 
 
 1 Foolish. 'Valuable. 
 
INDEX 
 
INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Achilles described by Ulysses ii., 226 
 
 surveying Hector ii., 244 
 
 Action, the power of i., 125 
 
 to be carried on with resolution i., 275 
 
 Adversity, advantages of i., il 
 
 the trial of man ii., 225 
 
 Advice i., 3 
 
 to a son going on his travels ii., 61 
 
 Affectation in words i., 62 
 
 Affection, natural, allied to love i., iii 
 
 Age, old i., 27, ii., 68 
 
 despised ii., 158 
 
 Ages, the seven, a description of i., 17 
 
 Allegiance, firm, described i., 280 
 
 Ambition jealous of a too successful firiend ii., 9 
 
 clothed in specious humility ii., 94 
 
 Ambitious love i., 3 
 
 Anarchy, the mischief of ii., 24 
 
 ideal i-> 99 
 
 Anger described , i., 275 
 
 Antony, Marc, his vices and virtues ii., 4 
 
 his speech to Cleopatra at his return with victory . ii., 12 
 
 his despondency ii., 12 
 
 his reflections on his faded glory ".,13 
 
 his address to the corpse of Caesar ii., 98 
 
 his speech to the conspirators ii., 99 
 
 funeral oration of ii., 100-105 
 
 his character of Brutus „ . . . . ii., 115 
 
 Aposiopesis, a fine i., 99 
 
248 Index, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Appearances, false, described i., 219 
 
 Applause, description of i., 283 
 
 Ariel, songs of i., 97, no 
 
 Army, routed, description of one ii., 54 
 
 Arthur, pathetic speeches of, to Hubert i., 156 
 
 Assignation i., 68 
 
 Astrology ridiculed ii-, 117 
 
 Aufidias, his hatred to Coriolanus ii., 22 
 
 Authority, abuse of i., 4° 
 
 the privilege of i., 41 
 
 Bargains, punctuality in . . 1., 191 
 
 Bastardy ii., 116 
 
 Battle, an uncertain i., 248 
 
 Bawd, the practices of one condemned i-i 4^ 
 
 Beauty i., 10, 29 
 
 virtuous, the power of !•, 41 
 
 a scornful and satirical one i., 81 
 
 petitioning in vain i., 123 
 
 description of a ii., 182 
 
 Bedlam beggars ii., 120 
 
 Bees, the commonwealth of, described i., 217 
 
 Benedick the bachelor's recantation i-i 79 
 
 Birth, high i., 260 
 
 Boaster o . . . i., 147 
 
 Bolingbroke's public entry into London described . . i., 176 
 
 Bore i., 191 
 
 Boy, description of a beautiful one i., 112 
 
 Braggart ii., 49 
 
 a cowardly one i., 8 
 
 Braggarts, talking i., 85, 87 
 
 Bribery, honest i., 41 
 
 Brutus and Cassius, tent scene between ii., 106-112 
 
 the parting of ii., 114 
 
 Buckingham, Duke of, his prayer for the king .... i., 276 
 
 Ci^SAR, his dislike of Cassius ii., 93 
 
Index. 249 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CvBSAR, continued. 
 
 his ghost appears to Brutus ii., 112 
 
 his fame !., 266 
 
 Caliban, curses of !•. 95. 100 
 
 his exultation after having attempted the chastity 
 
 of Miranda !•, 97 
 
 his promises i., loi 
 
 Calumny ii., 73 
 
 Cassius, his contempt for Caesar ii,, 91 
 
 Ceremony insincere ii., 105 
 
 Change, prognostics of i., 167 
 
 Chastity i., 8, ii., 34 
 
 Cheerfulness i., 50 
 
 Child, the father of the man i., 130 
 
 Christmas-time, reverence paid to ii., 57 
 
 Churchman, description of one i., 286 
 
 Clarence's dream in the tower i., 261 
 
 Cleopatra, her solicitude on the absence of Antony . ii., 5 
 
 her sailing down the Cydnus described ii., 6 
 
 her infinite power of pleasing ii., 8 
 
 her supposed death, description of ii., 14 
 
 her reflections on the death of Antony ii., 14 
 
 her description of Antony ii., 16 
 
 her speech on applying the asp ii., 17 
 
 Cominius, his praise of Coriolanus in the senate . , ii., 23 
 
 Comparison, a scathing i., 194 
 
 Compassion and clemency superior to revenge ... i., 108 
 
 Conduct in war superior to action ii., 228 
 
 Confidence, a husband's i., 187 
 
 Conscience i., 272 
 
 guilty i., 106, ii., 156 
 
 the death-bed horrors of a i., 243 
 
 a good one described i., 241 
 
 the struggles of i., 158 
 
 a murderer's account of i., 264 
 
 Consideration i., 216 
 
 Consolation under banishment i., 164 
 
250 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Conspiracy, horrors of i., 152 
 
 dreadful till executed ii., 95 
 
 Brutus's apostrophe to ii., 95 
 
 Contemplation, zealous, described i., 267 
 
 Content, perfect ii., 164 
 
 Contention i., 202 
 
 Continence before marriage i., 106 
 
 Contrasts i., 207 
 
 Cordelia, her speech on the ingratitude of her sisters, ii., 130 
 
 Coriolanus, warring ii., 21 
 
 character of ii., 25 
 
 his abhorrence of flattery ii., 26 
 
 his detestation of the vulgar . . . , ii., 27 
 
 his prayer for his son ... ii., 34 
 
 Counsel of no weight in misery i., 86 
 
 Countenance, a guilty one described i., 240 
 
 Country, an oppressed one ii., 153 
 
 Courage , . . . i., 147 
 
 in youth i., 10 
 
 Courtesans, Timon's reflections on ii., 211 
 
 Courtier, noble, character of a i., 4 
 
 a conceited one i., 29 
 
 finical, description of one by Hotspur i-, 183 
 
 Cowardice i., 4, 164 
 
 and perjury i-, 151 
 
 Cranmer, Archbishop, his prophecy respecting Queen 
 
 Elizabeth i., 287 
 
 Creed, an innkeeper's i., 221 
 
 Cressida, description of her ii., 242 
 
 Crown, reflections on a •. . . i., 208 
 
 the transports of a i., 246 
 
 a king's true i., 250 
 
 Cruelty, dissuasions from exercising ii., 95 
 
 Crusade i., 182 
 
 Cupid's parentage i., 22 
 
 Customs, new ones followed .• i., 276 
 
Index, 251 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Danger i., 185, ii., 98 
 
 escape from i., m 
 
 takes hold of any support i., 155 
 
 of high position i., 260 
 
 Daybreak i., 74, 88, 270 
 
 Death ii., 16, 55 
 
 temporal, far better than eternal i-. 44 
 
 terrors of i-. 47 
 
 most in apprehension i., 46 
 
 apostrophe to i., 153 
 
 approach of i., 162 
 
 arguments against the fear of ii., 98 
 
 Deceit in a fine woman i., 265 
 
 Deed, a good one compared to a candle i-, 65 
 
 Defamation i., 25 
 
 Degree, reflections on one ii., 226 
 
 Delay, against 1., 9 
 
 Delights, violent ones not lasting ii., 190 
 
 Departing diseases, strength of i., 155 
 
 Dependents not to be too much trusted by great men, i., 276 
 
 Desdemona, her fidelity ii., 175 
 
 Desire of beloved objects heightened by their loss . i-, 85 
 
 Despair, description of i., 160, ii., 222 
 
 Despondency i., 155 
 
 Determined love i., 112 
 
 Dew in flowers i., 74 
 
 Diomedes, his manner of walking ii., 242 
 
 Dirge, a funeral one ii., 52 
 
 Disguise i., 113 
 
 Dislike, unseasonable, excuse for i., 9 
 
 Dissimulation i., 83 
 
 Doubt, description of ii., 229 
 
 Dover cliff, description of ii,, 128 
 
 Dreams, before battle i., 270 
 
 reflections on ii., 180 
 
 Drums i., 161 
 
 Drunkards enchanted by Ariel i.. 107 
 
252 Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Duelling, arguments against ii., 207 
 
 Duty, modest, always acceptable i., 76 
 
 doing of it merits no praise ii., 21 
 
 Dying with the person beloved preferable to parting, i., 242 
 
 Edgar, his account of discovering himself to his 
 
 father ii., 134 
 
 Eloquence and beauty i., 36 
 
 England, description of i., 146 
 
 invincible if unanimous i., 163 
 
 pathetically described !., 166 
 
 apostrophe to i., 168, 218 
 
 English curiosity, satire on i., 100 
 
 superiority over the French i., 221 
 
 army described i., 146 
 
 miserable state of 1., 231 
 
 Envy ii., 98 
 
 Evening, a fine one i., 270 
 
 Evils, the remedy of them generally in ourselves . . i., 4 
 
 Expedition !., 268 
 
 Eyes, women's i., 33 
 
 Face, a red i., 196 
 
 Fairies and magic i., 109 
 
 Fairy jealousy, and its effects i., 70 
 
 bank described i., 72 
 
 courtesies i., 72 
 
 Falstaff described by himself i., 188 
 
 described by Prince Hal i., 189 
 
 his catechism i., 199 
 
 Family resemblance i., 132 
 
 Father, authority of one i., 67 
 
 lamenting his daughter's infamy i-, 83 
 
 fondness of one for his child i., 129 
 
 passion of one on the murder of a favourite child, i., 247 
 
 the best guest at his son's nuptials ..... i., 140 
 
 anger of one ii., 116, 194 
 
Index, 253 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Father, continued. 
 
 the curse of one on his child ii., 118 
 
 Faults of others no justification of our own i., 38 
 
 Favourites compared to honeysuckles i., 80 
 
 Fear, the way of !., 173 
 
 Female friendship i*. 73 
 
 Females, cautions to young ones ii., 60 
 
 Ferdinand, his swimming ashore described i., 98 
 
 and Miranda, interesting scene between . . . i., 101-105 
 
 Filial ingratitude ii., 118 
 
 Flattery and an even-minded man, description of . . ii., 76 
 
 Fleet setting sail, description of i., 223 
 
 Foes, magnanimous ii., 28 
 
 Fool, description of one, and his moralizing on time . i., 14 
 
 his Uberty of speech i., 15 
 
 Fool-hardiness ii,, 49 
 
 Forgiveness, mutual, the duty of i-j 39 
 
 Fornication equal to murder i-. 43 
 
 Fortitude, true ii., 139 
 
 Fortune i-, 64 
 
 described i., 208 
 
 forms our judgments ii., 10 
 
 Fortune-teller, description of a beggarly one .... i., 26 
 
 France, state of, after the war i., 234 
 
 Frank speech no sign of malice i., 259 
 
 Friend, a forsaken one ii., 209 
 
 Friends, parting of i., 56 
 
 Friendship in love i., 79 
 
 martial ii., 30 
 
 Friendships, common ii., 28 
 
 Frost i., 29 
 
 Fury expels fear ii., 1 1 
 
 Garden scene in Romeo and Juliet ii., 182-190 
 
 Garland for old men i., 135 
 
 for middle-aged men i., 136 
 
 for young men i., 137 
 
254 Index. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Gentleman, an accomplished young one i., 120 
 
 Gentlewoman, a beautiful i*, 92 
 
 Ghost, description of one appearing in a dream ... i., 133 
 
 Ghosts vanish at the crowing of a cock ii-, 5^ 
 
 Glory described . i., 236 
 
 Gloucester, Duke of, his deformity i., 251 
 
 his dissimulation i., 251 
 
 Duchess of, her remonstrance to her husband 
 
 when doing penance i., 238 
 
 Earl of, his farewell to the world ii., 129 
 
 God, goodness of, ever to be remembered i., 238 
 
 Gods, justice of the ii-, i34 
 
 Gold, reflections on i., 209, ii., 215 
 
 effects of ii., 40, 209 
 
 Governor, a severe one i'l 37 
 
 Gratitude in an old servant !•, 13 
 
 Gravity, affected i.> S^ 
 
 assumed i., 54 
 
 Greatness i., n6 
 
 subject to censure J-, 49 
 
 the cares of i., 264 
 
 when falling described i., 281 
 
 departing ii., 13 
 
 contemptible when on the decline ii., 236 
 
 Grief i., 151, 167 
 
 tokens of i., 150 
 
 real ii., 57 
 
 immoderate, discommended ii., 58 
 
 Griefs, the greater ones destroy the less i., 204 
 
 Hamlet, his soliloquy on his mother's marriage . . ii., 58 
 his speech on the appearance of his father's ghost, 
 and the mischiefs it might tempt him to . . .ii.,62,63 
 
 and the ghost, scene between ii., 63-67 
 
 his mad address, described by Ophelia ii., 67 
 
 his reflections on the player and himself .... ii., 69 
 his soliloquy on life and death ii., 72 
 
Index. 255 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Hamlet, continued. 
 
 his instructions to the players ii., 74 
 
 his reflections on the king ii., 77 
 
 conference between him and his mother .... ii., 79-85 
 
 his irresolution ii., 86 
 
 his reflections on Yorick's skull ii., 88 
 
 Happiness consists in opinion ii., 69 
 
 Hatred, remorseless i., 241 
 
 Health, a ii., 90 
 
 Heart, faint, ne'er won fair lady i., 237 
 
 Hector, description of him in battle "'.243 
 
 Henry IV., his character of Percy and Prince Henry . i., 182 
 
 his pathetic address to his son i., 192 
 
 Henry, Prince, soliloquy of i., 183 
 
 gallant challenge of i., 198 
 
 modest defence of himself i., 195 
 
 and his father, scene between i., 209-214 
 
 v., character of, by his father i., 207 
 
 by the Constable of France ... i., 221 
 
 his prayer before battle i., 230 
 
 perfections of i., 216 
 
 speech before the battle of Agincourt i., 232 
 
 VI., on his own lenity . i., 252 
 
 VIII., his character of Queen Katharine .... i., 279 
 
 Honour i., 186 
 
 due to personal virtue only, not to birth .... i., 5 
 
 a maid's i., 7 
 
 to be conferred on merit only i., 56 
 
 and policy ii., 25 
 
 must be active to preserve its lustre ii., 236 
 
 more dear than life ii., 244 
 
 Hope i., 44. 123, 269 
 
 deceitful i., 167 
 
 Horse, the dauphin's i., 222 
 
 Hotspur, his impatience for the battle i., 197 
 
 his death i., 199 
 
 Hounds i., 75, 89 
 
256 Index, 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Hunting J.. 74 
 
 Husband, a domineering i., 91 
 
 Hypocrisy i-. S3, 160, ii., 72 
 
 of Angelo i., 46 
 
 Hypocrite, the character of an arch one i., 49 
 
 Iago, his dispraise of honesty ii., 160 
 
 Imagination, the power of i-, 75 
 
 Imogen, her bedchamber, scene of ii., 38 
 
 supposed dead ii., 50 
 
 awaking ii-.SS 
 
 Inconstancy in man i., 127 
 
 Infant, exposing of one i., 132, 134 
 
 Infidelity in a friend i., 127 
 
 Infirmity, the faults of, pardonable . ii., 120 
 
 Ingratitude, a song i., 18 
 
 hatred of i., 117 
 
 of false friends ii., 205 
 
 miserable shifts of ii., 206 
 
 Inhumanity described i., 286 
 
 Innocence i., 133 
 
 discovered by the countenance i., 84 
 
 youthful i., 129 
 
 silent, its eloquence i., 132 
 
 harmless ii., 49 
 
 Insects, cruelty to ii., 222 
 
 Isle, an enchanted i., 105 
 
 Ivy, a usurping substitute compared to it !•• 94 
 
 Jealousy i., 25, 130 
 
 a woman's, more deadly than poison i., 26 
 
 definition of ii., 166 
 
 the tortures of ii., 167-169 
 
 Jest and Jester i*, 33 
 
 Jester i., n6 
 
 Jew, malice of the i., 52 
 
 expostulation of the i., S3 
 
Index, 257 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Jew, continued. 
 
 his commands to his daughter i., 54 
 
 his revenge i-i 57 
 
 Joan of Arc i., 236 
 
 Joy changed to sorrow ii., 199 
 
 Juliet, resolution of ii-i i97 
 
 her soliloquy on drinking the opiate ii., 197 
 
 Justice i-, 40 
 
 Lord Chief, his speech to King Henry V., whom 
 
 he had imprisoned i., 214 
 
 Katharine, Queen, her speech to her husband . . i., 277 
 
 her speech to Cardinal Wolsey i., 278 
 
 on her own merit i-> 279 
 
 compared to a lily i., 280 
 
 King, in Hamlet, his despairing soliloquy ii., jj 
 
 a deposed i., 173 
 
 curse of one i., 174 
 
 renunciation of one i., 174 
 
 the steed of one i., 180 
 
 reply of one i., 215 
 
 anger of one i., 281 
 
 Kingdom compared to a garden i., 171 
 
 Kings, evil purposes of, too servilely executed .... i., 159 
 
 divine right of i., 169 
 
 misery of i., 170 
 
 divinity of ii., 87 
 
 Knowledge sometimes hurtful i., 131 
 
 Labour ii., 48 
 
 Lady, a complete one i., 149 
 
 Lass, a pretty i., 138 
 
 Lavinia and her lute ii., 221 
 
 the loss of her tongue described ii., 221 
 
 Leader, loss of one i., 203 
 
 Lear, on the ingratitude of his daughters ii., 122 
 
 his distress in the storm ..,,,,,,... ii.»i23 
 
258 Index, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lear, continued. 
 
 his exclamations in the tempest ii., 123-127 
 
 his distraction described ii., 128 
 
 his description of his flatterers ii., 129 
 
 and Cordelia, scene between ii., 131 
 
 his speech to Cordelia when taken prisoner . . . ii-, 133 
 
 on the death of Cordelia ii., 135 
 
 dying ii., 136 
 
 Liberty indulged, the consequence of !•, 3^ 
 
 spirit of ii., 94 
 
 Life chequered i., 8 
 
 reflections on the vanity of i«. 44 
 
 recluse, described i., 67 
 
 demands action i., 199 
 
 the vicissitudes of i., 281 
 
 loathed ii., 12 
 
 and death, soliloquy on ii., 72 
 
 necessaries of it few ii., 122 
 
 reflections on ii., 159 
 
 Lightness of foot !., 108 
 
 Lion, a hungry one described i., 246 
 
 Loquacity i., 51 
 
 Love i., 23, 69, ii., 180 
 
 humorous description of i., 30, 119 
 
 the power of i., 32 
 
 in a grave, severe governor i-, 42 
 
 messenger, compared to an April day i-i 57 
 
 true, ever crossed i., 68 
 
 in idleness » i., 71 
 
 true i., 113, 139 
 
 at first sight i., 112 
 
 determined i., 112 
 
 concealed ' i., 115 
 
 unsought i., 116 
 
 commended and censured i., 118 
 
 froward and dissembling i., 118 
 
 compared to an April day , , , i., "9 
 
Index, 259 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Love, continued. 
 
 compared to a waxen image i., 121 
 
 contempt of it punished i., 120 
 
 increased by attempts to suppress it i., 121 
 
 compared to a figure on ice i., 123 
 
 unreturned i., 127 
 
 cemented by prosperity, but loosened by adversity, i. , 141 
 
 the nobleness of life ii., 3 
 
 sole motive of Othello's marrying ii., 161 
 
 heralds of ii., 190 
 
 invitation to ii., 219 
 
 in a brave young soldier ii., 224 
 
 constancy in, protested ii., 235 
 
 shook off by a soldier ii., 238 
 
 worth of i., 140 
 
 Lover, a description of one i., 14, 19 
 
 a successful one compared to a conqueror ... i., 60 
 his thoughts compared to the inarticulate joys of 
 
 a crowd i., 61 
 
 speech of one i., 98 
 
 protestation of one i., 106 
 
 his banishment i., 122 
 
 a faithful and constant one i., 122 
 
 description of one in solitude i., 126 
 
 commendation of one i., 138 
 
 exclamation of one ii,, 164 
 
 his computation of time ii., 170 
 
 an expecting one described ii., 234 
 
 the farewell of one ii., 241 
 
 Lovers parting i,, 242, ii., 36 
 
 unsettled humours of ii., 8 
 
 light of foot ii., 190 
 
 impatience of ii., 191 
 
 their reluctance to part ii., 193 
 
 parting in the morning ii., 241 
 
 Loyalty 11.^ 10 
 
26o Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Macbeth, his temper ii., 137 
 
 his irresolution ii., 138 
 
 his guilty conscience and fears of Banquo . . . ii., 145 
 Lady, her soliloquy on the news of Duncan's 
 
 approach ii., 138 
 
 murdering scene in ii,, 140-144 
 
 Macduff, his behaviour on the murder of his wife and 
 
 children ii., 154-156 
 
 Madness occasioned by poison i., 162 
 
 Maidens, their prayers effectual ... i-i 37 
 
 Malcolm, his character of himself ii.,iSi 
 
 Malicious men described i., 286 
 
 Man, description of a merry one i., 29 
 
 a perfect i., 98 
 
 in love, humorous description of i., 119 
 
 three things in him disliked by females i., 124 
 
 in tears i., 161 
 
 how to choose one . i., 207 
 
 a plain blunt one described ii., 119 
 
 reflections on ii., 69, 127 
 
 his preeminence i., 24 
 
 Margaret, Queen, her speech before the battle of 
 
 Tewkesbury i., 253 
 
 her execrations on Richard III i., 260 
 
 her exprobration in a soliloquy i., 268 
 
 Marriage described i., 237 
 
 alters the temper of both sexes i., 21 
 
 portion, a i., 90 
 
 Master taking leave of his servants ii., 11 
 
 Mediocrity i*, 52 
 
 Melancholy ii.,89 
 
 the varieties of i., 21 
 
 the parent of error ii., 114 
 
 Men, all frail i., 38 
 
 wilful . ii., 122 
 
 fickleness of i., 250 
 
 Mercy i., 63, ii., 219 
 
Index, 261 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mercy, continued. 
 
 frequently mistaken i-. 39 
 
 commended in governors i-i 39 
 
 Merit always modest . i., 79 
 
 Messenger, post, described i., 202 
 
 with ill news i., 203 
 
 Midnight ii., 76 
 
 Mind, lowliness of the i-. 43 
 
 the, alone valuable i*. 92 
 
 not at ease i., 280 
 
 a disordered one ii., 73 
 
 its diseases incurable ii., 158 
 
 Miranda, the wooing of i., loi 
 
 Mirror of fashion i., 205 
 
 Mirth and melancholy !•, 50 
 
 Mob ii., 20 
 
 Modesty and courage in youth . i., 10 
 
 Moon i., 69 
 
 Moonlight i., 64 
 
 night i., 66 
 
 Morning, description of i., 248, ii., 57 
 
 Mother, fondness of one for a beautiful child .... i., 151 
 
 ravings of one i., 153 
 
 grief of one for the loss of her son i., 154 
 
 Murder of the two young princes in the Tower, de- 
 scription of i., 267 
 
 Murderer, countenance of one i., 158 
 
 Muse, invocation to i., 216 
 
 Music i., 58, 64, 97, III 
 
 the power of - . i., 124 
 
 and time i., 179 
 
 Nature, the force of ii., 46 
 
 and art • . . . i., 136 
 
 News-bearers i., 158 
 
 Night, description of i., 76, 243 
 
 in a camp described i., 223 
 
 before the battle i., 225 
 
262 Index, 
 
 PAGS 
 
 Obedience to princes i., 280 
 
 Octavia's entrance, what it should have been .... ii., 9 
 
 Offences mistaken ii., 121 
 
 Oliver, his description of danger when sleeping ... i., 22 
 
 Ophelia, description of her death ii-, 87 
 
 her interment ii., 89 
 
 Opportunity to be seized on all occasions of life . . . ii., 112 
 
 Ornament, or appearance, the deceit of i-. 59 
 
 Othello, his description to the Senate of his winning 
 
 the affection of Desdemona ii., 161 
 
 his first suspicion ii., 164 
 
 his jealousy gaining ground ii., 166 
 
 his story of the handkerchief ii., 169 
 
 his distraction ii., 170 
 
 his fondness ii., 171 
 
 his confirmed jealousy ii., 172 
 
 his pathetic upbraidings of Desdemona . . . ii.. 172-175 
 
 his irresolution to murder Desdemona ii., 176 
 
 his confusion after the murder ii,, 177 
 
 his love ii., 177 
 
 his remorse ii., 177 
 
 his speech before his death ii., 178 
 
 Pageant, a royal i., 274 
 
 Painting i., 89 
 
 to what compared ii., 204 
 
 Pardon, the sanction of wickedness i., 37 
 
 despair of i., 133 
 
 Passion, real, dissembled i., 20 
 
 too strong for vows i., 107 
 
 a rising one described ii., 121 
 
 Pastors, ungracious, satires on ii., 61 
 
 Patience easier taught than practised i., 24 
 
 and sorrow ii., 128 
 
 Patriotism ii., 91 
 
 Peace inspires love !•, 78 
 
 after a civil war i., i8i 
 
Index, 263 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Peace, continued. 
 
 after a siege ii., 35 
 
 People, Brutus' speech to the ii., 99 
 
 Percy, Lady, her pathetic speech to her husband . . i., 186 
 
 Perfection admits of no addition i'. I57 
 
 human, the extent of ii., 60 
 
 Person, description of a murdered one i., 240 
 
 Petition, a tender one i., 16 
 
 Philosophy, a shepherd's i-, 19 
 
 Pity to be discarded in war ii., 244 
 
 Play-fellows i., 10 
 
 Pleasure, the vanity of i., 28 
 
 and revenge ii., 229 
 
 of doing good ii., 204 
 
 Pleasures of the court i., 256 
 
 Poetry, the power of, with females i., 124 
 
 Popular favour, method to gain ii., 25 
 
 Popularity described i., 165, ii., 22 
 
 Portia, her suitors i., 55 
 
 her picture i., 60 
 
 her speech to Brutus ii., 96 
 
 Possession more languid than expectation i.. 55 
 
 Power, vanity of i., 170 
 
 abuse of ii., 130 
 
 Precepts against ill-fortune ii., 27 
 
 Preferment ii., 160 
 
 Presents prevail with women i., 122 
 
 lightly regarded by real lovers i., 139 
 
 Pride cures pride ii., 236 
 
 Prodigies ii.,56 
 
 ridiculed i., 189 
 
 Calpurnia's address on . ii., 97 
 
 Promise and performance, difference between . . . ii., 217 
 
 Prophecy of King Richard i,, 175 
 
 Prospero's reproof of Ariel i-i 95 
 
 Providence directs our actions ii., 90 
 
 the justice of ii., 127 
 
 Puck, or Robin Goodfellow i., 69 
 
264 Index, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Quickly, Dame, her account of Falstaifs death . . i., 220 
 
 Reason, a woman's i., 118 
 
 Regicides detestable i., 131 
 
 Relenting tenderness ii., 33 
 
 Repentance i., 127 
 
 Reputation i., 164, ii., 165 
 
 Resentment, silent, the deepest i., 239 
 
 Resolution i., 37, 84 
 
 from a sense of honour i., 46 
 
 firm ii., 17 
 
 obstinate ii.. 32 
 
 Respect described ii., 228 
 
 Revenge ii., 99. 222 
 
 the Jew's implacable i., 61 
 
 the Jew's reason for i., 62 
 
 Revolt, story of a i., 169 
 
 Revolutionist's promise i., 244 
 
 Rhymers, miserable ones ridiculed i., 190 
 
 Richard III., omens on the birth of i-, 254 
 
 his soliloquy on his own deformity i., 257 
 
 his love for Lady Anne i., 258 
 
 his praise of his own person i., 259 
 
 warning against i., 260 
 
 his hypocrisy i., 261 
 
 character of, by his mother i., 269 
 
 address before the battle i-, 272 
 
 his behaviour after an alarum i., 273 
 
 Richmond, Duke of, his prayer i., 270 
 
 Ring, the description of one ii., 220 
 
 Riot, a rash fierce blaze of i., 166 
 
 Rising early the way to eminence ii., 12 
 
 Romeo, on his banishment ii., 191-193 
 
 his description of, and discourse with, the apothe- 
 cary . . ii., 199 
 
 his contest with Paris ii., 201 
 
 his last speech over Juliet in the tomb ii., 202 
 
Index, 265 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Rosalind proposing to wear men's clothes i., 11 
 
 Royalty, miseries of . i., 229 
 
 inborn ii., 50 
 
 Rumour described i., 201 
 
 Satire, apology for i., 16 
 
 Say, Lord, his apology for himself i., 245 
 
 Scene of a banquet ii., 146-151 
 
 Lady Macbeth in her sleep ii., 156 
 
 Season, nothing good out of i., 65 
 
 Seducers, custom of i., 8 
 
 Self-accusation of too great love i., 6 
 
 Self-denial, a conquest i., 28 
 
 Self-interest, powerful effects of i., 149 
 
 Senses returning i., 109 
 
 Shepherd, character of an honest and simple one . . i., 19 
 
 Shepherd's life, the blessing of one i., 249 
 
 Simplicity and duty !•, 7^ 
 
 rural i., 141 
 
 Single combat i., 185 
 
 Slander i., 25, ii., 46 
 
 Sleep i-. 99> ii-, 96 
 
 sound i., 49 
 
 apostrophe to i., 206 
 
 Solicitation, the season of ii., 32 
 
 Soliloquy in prison i., 178 
 
 Solitude preferred to a court life i., 11 
 
 Song i., 31, 34, 48, 115, 125 
 
 character of an old one i-, 114 
 
 Sonnet i., 31 
 
 Sorrow, effects of it i., 264 
 
 too deep for tears i., 131 
 
 Sorrows rarely single ii., 87 
 
 Speculation more easy than practice i-, 52 
 
 Spirit, a warlike one described i., 218 
 
 Spring, a song i., 34 
 
 Stag, wounded, reflections on i., 12 
 
266 Index, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Station, a low, the blessings of i., 277 
 
 Statue described i., 142 
 
 Steward, a faithful one ii., 205 
 
 Stoic philosophers, satire on i., 87 
 
 Stories, melancholy ones described i., 175 
 
 Storm, Ariel's description and management of one . i., 94 
 
 Study i., 28 
 
 Submission to heaven our duty i., 265 
 
 Success not equal to our hopes ii., 225 
 
 Sun-rising after a dark night i., 169 
 
 Sycophants, flattering ones ii., 119 
 
 Tears i., 108, ii., 222 
 
 Thanks ii., 219 
 
 Thersites mimicking Ajax ii., 238 
 
 Thoughts, ambitious, a simile on i., 251 
 
 Thoughts ineffectual to moderate affliction i., 165 
 
 Time i., 76 
 
 Timon, his execration of the Athenians ii., 208 
 
 his speech to Alcibiades ii., 210 
 
 his reflections on the earth ii., 212 
 
 his discourse with Apemantus ii., 213 
 
 his speech to the thieves ii., 216 
 
 his character of an honest steward ii., 217 
 
 Titles, new ones i., 145 
 
 Tragedian, the deep i., 266 
 
 Travelling, advantage of i-, "9 
 
 Treason and murder i., 219 
 
 Trifles determining love i., 126 
 
 Troilus, character of ii., 243 
 
 Trumpeter, description of one ii., 242 
 
 Trumpets of the skies i., 198 
 
 Trust in man, vanity of i., 266 
 
 Ulysses, the subtilty of him, and stupidity of Ajax . ii., 229-234 
 
 Unkindness described ii., 121 
 
 Valley, description of a melancholy one ii., 220 
 
Index, 267 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Vanity of human nature i., 107 
 
 wishes ii., 6 
 
 Vicious persons infatuated by heaven ii., 11 
 
 Victory by the French, description of i., 148 
 
 English, description of i., 148 
 
 Villain to be noted i., 87 
 
 his look and ready zeal i., 159 
 
 Violets i., 177 
 
 Virtue and goodness i-, 47 
 
 given to be exerted i., 36 
 
 Volumnia's resolution on the pride of Coriolanus . . ii., 26 
 
 pathetic speech to her son Coriolanus ii., 34 
 
 Vows, rash ones, condemned ii., 244 
 
 Vulgar, fickleness of the i., 205 
 
 Warrior, a gallant one i., 197 
 
 Warwick, Earl of.Jiis dying speech i., 252 
 
 Wedding, a mad one described i., 90 
 
 Widow compared to a turtle-dove i., 142 
 
 Wife, duty of one to her husband i., 92 
 
 song of one to her husband i., 192 
 
 description of a good one i., 277 
 
 impatience of one to meet her husband .... ii., 41 
 
 innocency of one . . . ii., 47 
 
 baseness of falsehood to one ii., 37 
 
 Winter, a song !•. 35 
 
 Wisdom superior to fortune ii., 11 
 
 Witches described ii., 137 
 
 power of ii., 151 
 
 Wolsey, Cardinal, his speech to Cromwell i., 282 
 
 an account of his death i., 283 
 
 his vices and virtues described i., 284 
 
 Woman, her tongue i-, 89 
 
 should be youngest in love i.i "4 
 
 her fears i., 150 
 
 resolved and ambitious i., 238 
 
 in man's appare! ii., 47 
 
268 Index, 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Woman, continued. 
 
 frailty of i-. 44 
 
 want greatly prevails on them ii., lo 
 
 satire on ii., 40 
 
 Wonder proceeding from sudden joy i., 141 
 
 World, its true value i^ 5° 
 
 Worldliness . . . , i., 50 
 
 Wreck, a clown's description of one i., 135 
 
 Wrong and insolence described ii., 218 
 
 York, Duke of, his death described by Exeter ... i., 233 
 
 his character of his sons i., 246 
 
 in battle, description of him i., 248 
 
 Duchess of, her lamentation on the misfortunes of 
 
 her family i., 265 
 
 Young women, advice to them i., 7 
 
 Youth, courage and modesty in them . .« i., 10 
 
 the boasting of i., 61 
 
 Youths, Grecian, described by Troilus ii., 241 
 
 THE END, 
 
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