1 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? I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: PORTIA. ("Merchant of Venice.") BASSANIO. In Belmont is a lady richly left, Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; BASSANIO. PORTIA'S PORTRAIT. What find I here? 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 severed lips, Should sunder such sweet friends: Here in her hairs Doth limp behind the substance. FERDINAND. MIRANDA. ("The Tempest.") Admired Miranda ! Indeed the top of admiration; worth What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady With so full soul, but some defect in her And put it to the foil: But you, O you, So perfect, and so peerless, are created IMOGEN, SLEEPING. ("Cymbeline.") IACHIMO. HOW bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper ROSALIND. ("As you Like It.") (Orlando pins upon the trees in the forest of Arden verses descriptive of Rosalind.) FROM the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, All the pictures, fairest lined, Are but black to Rosalind. * Tongues I'll hang on every tree, 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence' end, Will I Rosalinda write; Teaching all that read, to know Heaven would in little show. Helen's cheek, but not her heart; Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts By heavenly synod was devised; Of many faces, eyes, and hearts, To have the touches dearest prized. FLORIZEL. PERDITA. ("A Winter's Tale.") What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; Pray so; and, for the 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 So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens. 66 UNA. FROM THE FAERIE QUEEN," BY EDMUND SPENSER. UNA AND the red-CROSS KNIGHT. A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plain, Yclad in mighty arms and silver shield, Wherein old dints of deep wounds did remain, The cruel marks of many a bloody field; Yet arms till that time did he never wield; His angry steed did chide his foaming bit, As much disdaining to the curb to yield : Full jolly knight he seemed, and fair did sit, As one for knightly jousts and fierce encounters fit. A lovely lady rode him fair beside, Upon a lowly ass more white than snow; Seemed in heart some hidden care she had, So pure and innocent, as that same lamb, |