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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. Let the bird of loudest lay,
Death is now the phænix' nest ; On the sole Arabian tree,
And the turtle's loyal breast Herald sad and trumpet be,
To eternity doth rest, To whose sound chaste wings obey.
Leaving no posterity : But thou shrinking harbinger,
'Twas not their infirmity, Foul pre-currer of the fiend,
It was married chastity.
Truth may seem, but cannot be ;
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she; From this session interdict
Truth and beauty buried be. Every fowl of tyrant wing,
To this urn let those repair Save the eagle, feather'd king:
That are either true or fair ;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
SONGS FROM SHAKSPEARE'S PLAYS.
Come unto these yellow sands, That thy sable gender mak'st
And then take hands : With the breath thou giv’st and tak'st,
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd, Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
(The wild waves whist) Here the anthem doth commence :
Foot it featly here and there; Love and constancy is dead;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
Hark, hark ! Phænix and the turtle fled
Bur. Bough, wowgh,
[dispersedly. In a mutual flame from hence.
The watch-dogs bark : So they lov’d, as love in twain
Bur. Bough, wowgh, Had the essence but in one ;
Hark, hark! I hear Two distincts, division none :
The strain of strutting chanticlere
Full fathom five thy father lies, 'Twixt the turtle and his queen ;
Of his bones are coral made ;
Those are pearls that were his eyes: But in them it were a wonder.
Nothing of him that can fade, So between them love did shine,
But doth suffer a sea-change, That the turtle saw bis right
Into something rich and strange. Flaming in the phænix sight:
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell, Either was the other's mine.
Hark, now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell. Property was thus appallid,
[Burden, ding-dong. That the self was not the same ; Single nature's double name
Where the bee sucks, there lurk 1 : Neither two nor one was call'd.
In a cowslip's bell I lie :
There I couch when owls do cry. Reason, in itself confounded,
On the bats back I do fly,
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 ; Whereupon it made this threne
Fly away, fly away, breath; To the phenix and the dove,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.
Tell me, where is fancy bred,
Let us all ring fancy's knell. I'll begin it,- Ding dong, bell.
Ding dong, bell.
FROM AS YOU LIKE IT.
Under the greenwood tree,
Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Here shall he see
Seeking the food he eats,
Here shall he see
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;
Did share it.
Not a friend, not a friend greet
Lay me, O! where
To weep there.
FROM ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
Do paint the meadows with delight,
And merry larks are plowmen's clocks,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
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,
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
As man's ingratitude ;
Although thy breath be rude.
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
As benefits forgot :
As friend remember'd not.
Why should this a desert be ?
For it is unpeopled ? No; Tongues I'll hang on every tree,
That shall civil sayings show. Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage ; That the stretching of a span
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,
Will I Rosalinda write ;
And with leaves and flowers do cover Teaching all that read, to know
The friendless bodies of unburied men. This quintescence of every sprite
Call unto his funeral dole Heaven would in little show.
The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole, Therefore heaven nature charg'd,
To raise him hillocks that shall keep him warm, That one body should be fill'd
And (when gay tombs are robb’d) sustain no harm ; With all graces wide enlarg'd :
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, Nature presently distillid
For with his nails he'll dig them up again. Helen's cheek, but not her heart;
Cleopatra's majesty : Atalanta's better part;
Hark, now every thing is still ; Sad Lucretia's modesty.
The screech-owl, and the whistler shrill, Thus Rosalind of many parts
Call upon our dame aloud, By heavenly synod was devis'd ;
And bid her quickly d'on her shroud. Of many faces, eyes, and hearts,
Much ye had of land and rent ; To have the touches dearest priz'd.
Your length in clay now's competent. Heaven would that she these gifts should have,
A long war disturb’d the mind: And I to live and die her slave.
Here the perfect peace is signed.
Of what is't fools make such vain keeping ?
Sin, their conception ; their birth, weeping : Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
Their life, a general mist of error,
Their death, a hideous storm of terror.
Strew the hair with powder sweet,
D'on clean linen, bathe the feet:
And (the foul fiend more to check)
A crucifix let bless the neck.
'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day:
End the groan, and come away.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
FROM THE ELDER BROTRER.
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!
Beauty clear and fair,
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:
FROM THE MAID'S TRAGEDY.
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,
FROM THE LITTLE FRENCH LAWYER.
FROM THE CAPTAIN.
'Tis a grave,
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,
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, This way come; make haste, oh,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.
1. Tell me, dearest, what is love! This way, this way, seek delight!
2. 'Tis a lightning from above;
'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire, FROM VALENTINIAN.
'Tis a boy they call Desire. Hear ye, ladies that despise,
Both. What the mighty love has done ;
Gapes to have Fear examples, and be wise :
Those poor fools that long to prove. Fair Calista was a nun;
1. Tell me more, are women true! Leda, sailing on the stream 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
Wherein you spend your folly!
There's nought in this life sweet, In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud,
If man were wise to see't, Or painful to his slumbers ; easy, sweet,
But only melancholy; And as a purling stream, thou sou of night,
Oh, sweetest melancholy ! Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain,
Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver rain.
A sigh that piercing mortifies, Into this prince gently, oh, gently slide,
A look that's fasten'd to the ground, And kiss him into slumbers like a bride!
A tongue chain'd up, without a sound !
Fountain heads and pathless groves, God Lyæus, ever young,
Places which pale passion loves! Ever honour'd, ever sung;
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes,
Are warmly hous'd, save bats and owls! In a thousand lusty shapes,
A midnight bell, a parting groan!
These are the sounds we feed upon ; Dance upon the mazer's brim,
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley: In the crimson liquor swim;
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
FROM A MASQUE,
Shake off your heavy trance,
And leap into a dance,
Such as no mortals use to tread,
And Jive! Therefore on this mould, Fit only for Apollo
Lowly do I bend my knee, To play to, for the moon to lead,
In worship of thy deity. And all the stars to follow !
Deign it, goddess, from my hand, On, blessed youths! for Jove doth pause,
To receive whate'er this land Laying aside his graver laws
From her fertile womb doth send For this device:
Of her choice fruits; and but lend And at the wedding such a pair,
Belief to that the Satyr tells : Each dance is taken for a pray'r,
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 A nymph, in honour of this match,
The head of Bacchus ; nuts more brown And whisper boldly in her ear,
Than the squirrel whose teeth crack 'em; Jove will but laugh, if you forswear!
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 ; But tho' these games must needs be play'd, These are of that luscious meat, I would this pair, when they are laid,
The great god Pan himself doth eat : And not a creature nigh 'em,
All these, and what the woods can yield, Could catch his scythe as he doth pass,
The hanging mountain, or the field, And cut his wings, and break his glass,
I freely offer, and ere long And keep him ever by 'em.
Will bring you more, more sweet and strong; Peace and silence be the guide
Till when humbly leave I take, To the man, and to the bride!
Lest the great Pan do awake, If there be a joy yet new
That sleeping lies in a deep glade, In marriage, let it fall on you,
Under a broad beech's shade : That all the world may wonder!
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 ;
There's not one that stays and feeds, That flings his arms down to the main,
All have hid them in the weeds. And thro' these thick woods have I run,
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 none 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 FAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS.