How many things by seasons season'd are To their right praise and true perfection! 9-v. 1.
126 Do but note a wild and wanton herd, 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.
9-v. 1.
This music crept by me upon the waters ; Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air.
128 O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention. 20-i. Chorus.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourish'd: The fire i' the flint Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes.t
130 The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that (silver; The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were 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 beggar'd all description : she did lie In her pavilion (cloth of gold of tissue), O’erpicturing that Venus, where we see, The fancy out-work nature; on each side her, Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid, did.*.. 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 framet 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 in 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.
30ii. 2.
131 Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona.
37-. 1. 132 0, 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; it did bass my trespass.*
1-iii. 3.
133 Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,- Being native burghers of this desert city, Should, in their own contines, with forked heads Have their round haunches gored. ...
Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that.- 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 sequester'd 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, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears..
But what said Jaques ? Did he not moralize this spectacle?...
O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping in the needlesst stream; Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much: Then, being alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; 'Tis 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 ;
'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look poor and broken bankrupt there?
I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once, When in a 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 Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd,t so sanded;‡ and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-knee'd, 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 holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn.
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them, And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
I with the Morning's Love) have oft made sport; And, like a forester, the groves may tread, Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red, Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams.
As free as mountain winds.
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 :t The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard : The fold stands empty in the drowned field, The crows are fatted with the murrain flock; The nine men's morrist is fill'd up with mud; 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 :8 And thorough this distemperature,ll we see The seasons alter; hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose; And on old Hyem's chin, and icy crown, An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds, Is, as in mockery, set: The spring, the summer, The chilling | autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries : and the 'mazed world, By their increase, ** now knows not which is which.
7-ii. 2. 140
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,
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