Page images


YOUTH, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral


May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.
I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship
First try'd our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father: In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
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 awak'd them; and his honour,
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

He us’d as creatures of another place;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled : Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times ;
Which, follow d well, would demonstrate them



But goers backward.

ALL's Well THAT ENDS WELL, A. 1, s. 2.


ING PHYSICAL INFIRMITY. For this I shall have time enough to mourn. In poison there is physick; 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-weakened 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 enrag'd 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, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron; And approach The ragged’st hour that time and spite dare bring, To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland ! Let heav'n kiss earth! Now let not nature's

hand Keep the wild flood confin'd! 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 may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead !

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 1, s. 1.


On fair ground,
I could beat forty of them.

I could myself
Take up a brace of the best of them; yea, the

two tribunes. COMINUS. But now 'tis odds beyond arith

metick; And manhood is callid foolery, when it stands Against a falling fabrick. Will you hence, Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear What they are used to bear. MEN.

Pray you, be gone : I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little; this must be

patch'd With cloth of any colour.

CORIOLANUS, A. 3, s. 1.


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.

WINTER'S TALE, A. 1, s. 2.


EVER HOMELY WITS. ANTONIO. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk

was that,


my brother held you in the cloister? PANTHINO. 'Twas of his nephew Proteus,

your son. ANT. Why, what of him ?

Pan. He wonder'd, that your lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home; While other men, of slender reputation, Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there; Some, to discover islands far away; Some, to the studious universities. For any, or for all these exercises, He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet: And did request me, to importune you, To let him spend his time no more at home, Which would be great impeachment to his age, In having known no travel in his youth. Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me

to that Whereon this month I have been hammering. I have consider'd well his loss of time; And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being try'd, and tutor’d in the world : Experience is by industry atchiev'd, And perfected by the swift course of time.



YOUR presence glads our days ; honour we

love, For who hates honour, hates the gods above.

PERICLES, A. 2, s. 3.


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 the prodigal doth she return; With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!


HORRORS OF CIVIL WAR. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defac'd By wasting ruin of the cruel foe! As looks the mother on her lowly babe, When death doth close his tender dying eyes, See, see, the pining malady of France; Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast! O, turn thy edged sword another

way; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that

help! One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's

bosom, Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign

gore; Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots !

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 3, s. 3.


« PreviousContinue »