744

A.

T.

THO

ANTONIO-TORQUATO TASSO

HOU know'st as little who, as where thou art.
Thy spirit desecrates this paradise;

not the indignant heaving of my breast,
which toils to wipe away the slightest stain,
A. What a great spirit in a narrow breast.
T. Here there is space to vent the bosom's rage.
A. The rabble also vent their rage in words.
Art thou of noble blood, as I am, draw.
I am, but I remember where I stand.

T.

A.

T.

A.

T.

A.

T.

A.

T.

Come then below, where weapons may avail.

Thou shouldst not challenge, therefore I'll not follow.
To cowards welcome such impediments.

The coward only threats where he's secure.
With joy would I relinquish this defence.

Demean thyself; degrade the place thou can'st not.
The place forgive me that I suffered it!
or draw or follow, if, as now I hate,
I'm not to scorn thee to eternity!

A. SWANWICK from Goethe

745

Fri.
Bal.

FRIAR LAURENCE-BALTHASAR

WHO

HO is it that consorts, so late, the dead? Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,
what torch is yond', that vainly lends his light
to grubs and eyeless sculls? as I discern,
it burneth in the Capels' monument.

Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,
one that you love.

Fri.

Bal.

Fri. How long hath he been there?
Bal.

Who is it?

Romeo.

Full half an hour.

I dare not, sir:

Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Bal.

my master knows not, but I am gone hence ;
and fearfully did menace me with death,

if I did stay to look on his intents.

Fri. Stay then, I'll go alone:-Fear comes upon me:
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

W. SHAKESPEARE

746

Her.

BUT

HERMIA-LYSANDER-HELENA

UT why unkindly didst thou leave me so? Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? Her. What love could press Lysander from my side?

Lys. Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, fair Helena; who more engilds the night than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light.

Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know,
the hate I bare thee made me leave thee so?

Her. You speak not as you k; it cannot be.
Hel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy!

now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three
to fashion this false sport, in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd
to bait me with this foul derision?

is all the counsel that we two have shar'd,
the sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
when we have chid the hasty-footed time

for parting us,-O, and is all forgot?

W. SHAKESPEARE

747

HAMLET

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 to his own conceit,
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.

F. S. III

W. SHAKESPEARE

14

748

Leo.

Fri.

749

I

LEONATO-FRIAR

KNOW not; If they speak but truth of her,

these hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour,

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,

nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
but they shall find, awak'd 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.

Pause a while,
and let my counsel sway you in this case.
Your daughter here the princes left for dead;
let her awhile be secretly kept in,

and publish it, that she is dead indeed:
maintain a mourning ostentation;
and on your family's old monument
hang mournful epitaphs, and do all rites
that appertain unto a burial.

WHO

W. SHAKESPEARE

THE SOUL'S ASPIRATIONS

IO that from Alpine heights his labouring eye shoots round the wide horizon, to survey

Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave

thro' mountains, plains, thro' empires black with shade and continents of sand; will turn his gaze

to mark the windings of a scanty rill

that murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul
disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing
beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth
and this diurnal scene, she springs aloft
through fields of air; pursues the flying storm;
rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens,
or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast,
sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars
the blue profound, and hovering round the sun
beholds him pouring the redundant stream
of light; beholds his unrelenting sway

bend the reluctant planets to absolve
the fated rounds of Time.

M. AKENSIDE

750 HENRY THE FIFTH'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOLDIERS

K.H.

HAT'S he that wishes so?

WHAT

My cousin Westmoreland ?--No, my fair cousin :

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 r;
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: 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. 751 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.
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'll 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 Gloster,—
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,

752

but we in it shall be rememberéd :

we few, we happy few, we band of brothers.

JUNO TO PARIS

W. SHAKESPEARE

AY, shepherd, look upon my stately grace,

NAY

and for thy meed, sith I am queen of riches, shepherd, I will reward thee with great monarchies, empires and kingdoms, heaps of massy gold, sceptres and diadems curious to behold,

rich robes, of sumptuous workmanship and cost,
and thousand things whereof I make no boast:
the mould whereon thou treadest shall be of Tagus'
sands,

and Xanthus shall run liquid gold for thee to wash
thy hands;

and if thou like to tend thy flock, and not from them

to fly,

their fleeces shall be curled gold to please their master's eye;

and last, to set thy heart on fire, give this one fruit to

me,

and, shepherd, lo, this tree of gold will I bestow on thee!

The ground whereon it grows, the grass, the root of

gold,

the body and the bark of gold, all glistering to behold, the leaves of burnish'd gold, the fruits that thereon

grow,

are diadems set with pearl in gold, in gorgeous glistering show:

and if this tree of gold in lieu may not suffice, require a grove of golden trees, so Juno bear the

prize.

753

WALLENSTEIN

G. PEELE

THE night

before the action in the plains of Lützen, leaning against a tree, thoughts crowding thoughts,

I looked out far upon the ominous plain.

My whole life, past and future, in this moment
before my mind's eye glided in procession.