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FROM THE TEMPEST.
If thou sorrow he will weep;
Co-supremes and stars of love,
As chorus to their tragic scene.
Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity,
Here inclos'd in cinders lie.
Death is now the phenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,
Leaving no posterity :
'Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.
To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair ;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
SONGS FROM SHAKSPEARE'S PLAYS.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands :
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,
(The wild waves whist)
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Hark, hark !
The watch-dogs bark:
Bur. Bough, wowgh,
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of struiting chanticlere
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that can fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change,
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell,
Hark, now I hear them,-ding-dong, bell.
Where the bee sucks, there lurk 1:
Io a cowslip's bell I lie :
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bats back I do fiy,
After sunset, merrily:
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
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.
FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;
Did share it.
Not a friend, not a friend greet
Lay me, 0! where
To weep there.
Tell me, where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourished? It is engender'd in the eyes, With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies:
Let us all ring fancy's knell. I'll begin it.—Ding dong, bell
. Ding dong, bell.
FROM AS YOU LIKE IT,
FROM ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
Do paint the meadows with delight,
Apd merry larks are plowmen's clocks,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
But winter and rough weather.
Seeking the food he eats,
Here shall he see
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
As man's ingratitude ;
Although thy breath be rude.
! Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folig!
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
As benefits forgot :
As friend remember'd not.
Guid. Art. Guid. Aru. Both.
Guid. Ar. Guid.
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sing he staring owl,
Why should this a desert be?
For it is unpeopled ? No;
That shall civil sayings show.
Runs his erring pilgrimage ;
Buckles in his sum of age. Some, of violated vows
"Twixt the souls of friend and friend : But upon the fairest boughs,
Or at every sentence end,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
Will I Rosalinda write ;
Teaching all that read, to know This quintescence of every sprite
Heaven would in little show. Therefore heaven nature charg'd,
That one body should be fillid With all graces wide enlarg'd:
Nature presently distillid Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty : Atalanta's better part;
Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts
By heavenly synod was devis'd : Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
To have the touches dearest priz’d. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave.
Hark, now every thing is still ;
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
Guid. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages ;
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages :
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ;
To thee the reed is as the oak :
All follow this and come to dust.
Consign to thee and come to dust.
And renowned be thy grave!
FROM THE ELDER BROTHER.
Where the air
Where the violet and the rose
Their blue veins in blush disclose,
And planted there,
Where to gain a favour is
More than light, perpetual bliss,
To this light,
Both the wonder and the story
Shall be yours, and eke the glory: I am your servant, and your thrall.
FROM THE MAID'S TRAGEDY. Asp. Lay a garland on my hearse,
Of the dismal yew ;
Say, I died true :
From my hour of birth.
Lightly, gentle earth!
Call for the Robin-red-breast, and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover,
An On, L Layiz
Mort If la Run An And Jov
'Tis a grave,
An Th Ye Av Ga Ha Bu li
Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes,
Dula. I could never have the pow'r
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,
Seals of love, tho' seal'd in vain.
Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears, You that hold these pleasures dear;
On whose tops the pinks that grow Fill your ears with our sweet sound,
Are yet of those that April wears; Whilst we melt the frozen ground.
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.
FROM TAE CAPTAIN.
1. Tell me, dearest, what is love!
'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire,
'Tis a boy they call Desire. Hear ye, ladies that despise,
Both. What the mighty love has done ;
Gapes to have
Those poor fools that long to prove.
1. Tell me more, are women true! To deceive the hopes of man,
2. Yes, some are, and some as you. Love accounting but a dream,
Some are willing, some are strange, Doated on a silver swan;
Since you men first taught to change.
Both. And till troth
Be in both,
All shall love, to love anew.
1. Tell me more yet, can they grieve? What the mighty love can do;
2. Yes, and sicken sore, but live: Fear the fierceness of the boy;
And be wise, and delay, The chaste moon he makes to wooe :
When you men are as wise as they. Vesta, kindling holy fires,
Then I see, Circled round about with spies,
Faith will be,
Never till they both believe.
FROM THE NICE VALOUR, OR THE PASSIONATE
Hence, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Wherein you spend your folly! Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose
There's nought in this life sweet, On this afflicted prince: fall like a cloud,
If man were wise to see't, In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud,
But only melancholy; Or painful to his slumbers ; easy, sweet,
Oh, sweetest melancholy! And as a purling stream, thou son of night,
Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain,
A sigh that piercing mortifies, Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver rain.
A look that's fasten'd to the ground, Into this prince gently, oh, gently slide,
A tongue chain'd up, without a sound ! And kiss him into slumbers like a bride!
Fountain heads and pathless groves,
Places which pale passion loves! God Lyæus, ever young,
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Ever honour'd, ever sung;
Are warmly hous'd, save bats and owls!
A midnight bell, a parting groan!
These are the sounds we feed upon ;
FROM A MASQUE.
In a thousand lusty shapes,
God of youth, let this day here
813 Such as no mortals use to tread,
And live! Therefore on this mould,
Lowly do I bend my knee, of To play to, for the moon to lead,
In worship of thy deity.
Deign it, goddess, from my hand, 2 On, blessed youths! for Jove doth pause,
To receive whate'er this land
From her fertile womb doth send
Of her choice fruits; and but lend
Belief to that the Satyr tells:
Fairer by the famous wells,
To this present day ne'er grew,
Never better nor more true.
Here be grapes, whose lusty blood **** If ladies mov'd as well as knights;
Is the learned poets' good, Run every one of you, and catch
Sweeter yet did never crown
The head of Bacchus ; nuts more brown
Than the squirrel whose teeth crack 'em;
Deign, oh, fairest fair, to take 'em.
For these black-ey'd Driope
Hath often-times commanded me
With my clasped knee to clime: That we his priests should all absolve.
See how well the lusty time Ye should stay longer if we durst:
Hath deck'd their rising cheeks iu red, Away! alas, that he that first
Such as on your lips is spread. Gave time wild wings to fly away,
Here be berries for a queen, Hath now no power to make him stay!
Some be red, some be green ;
The great god Pan himself doth eat :
All these, and what the woods can yield,
The hanging mountain, or the field,
I freely offer, and ere long
Will bring you more, more sweet and strong;
Till when humbly leave I take,
Lest the great Pan do awake,
That sleeping lies in a deep glade,
Under a broad beech's shade :
I must go, I must run
Swifter than the fiery-sun.
River God. What pow'rful charms my streams do
(bring With such force, that I their God, FLETCHER.
Three times striking with my rod,
My fishes shoot into the banks;
All have hid them in the weeds.
Here's a mortal almost dead, Whose bottom never kiss'd the sun
Fall'n into my river-head, Since the lusty spring began,
Hallow'd so with many a spell, All to please my master Pan,
That till now pone ever fell. Have I trotted without rest
'Tis a female young and clear, To get him fruit; for at a feast
Cast in by some ravisher. He entertains, this coming night,
See upon her breast a wound, His paramour, the Syrinx bright.
On which there is no plaister bound, But, behold a fairer sight!
Yet she's warm, her pulses beat, By that heav'nly form of thine,
'Tis a sign of life and heat. Brightest fair, thou art divine,
If thou be'st a virgin pure, Sprung from great immortal race
I can give a present cure: Of the gods; for in thy face
Take a drop into thy wound, Shines more awful majesty,
From my watery locks, more round Than dull weak mortality
Than orient pearl, and far more pure Dare with misty eyes behold,
Than unchaste flesh may endure.
FROM THE PAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS.