Whose rocky shore beats back the envious fiege
Of wat❜ry Neptune, is bound in with shame,
With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds.
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a fhameful conquest of itself.
Dear earth, I do falute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horfes hoofs:
As a long-parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears, and fmiles in meeting;
So, weeping, fmiling, greet I thee, my earth,
And do thee favour with my royal hands.
Feed not thy fov'reign's foe, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy fweets comfort his rav'nous sense:
But let thy fpiders that fuck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way;
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,
Which with ufurping fteps do trample thee.
Yield ftinging nettles to mine enemies;
And, when they from thy bofom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder,
Whofe double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy fov'reign's enemies.
Mock not my fenfelefs conjuration, Lords:
This earth fhall have a feeling, and these stones
Prove armed foldiers, ere her native king
Shall faulter under foul rebellious arms. Ibid. A. 3. Sc. 2.
O England! model to thine inward greatness,
Like little body with a mighty heart
What might'ft thou do, that honour would thee do,
Were all thy children kind and natural !
-All th' unsettled humours of the land;
Rafh, inconfid'rate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies faces, and fierce dragons fpleens,
Have fold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless fpirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the fwelling tide,
To do offence, and fcathe in Christendom.
Yon island carrions, defp'rate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them paffing fcornfully.
Big Mars feems bankrupt in their beggar'd hoft,
And faintly through a rusty bever peeps.
The horsemen fit like fixed candlesticks,
With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hide and hips,
The gum down-roping from their pale dead eyes;
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
Lies foul with chew'd grass, ftill and motionless:
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour."
King Henry V. A. 4. Sc.7.
My heart laments that Virtue cannot live
Out of the teeth of Emulation. Julius Cæfar. A. 2. Sc. 1,
EQUALITY,
(The natural rights of it.)
Why, man, he doth beftride the narrow world
Like a Coloffus; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves difhonourable graves.
Men at fome time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Cæfar-what should be in that Cæfar?
Why fhould that name be founded more than yours?
Write them together, yours is as fair a name;
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, 'tis as heavy; conjure with them,
Brutus will start a spirit as foon as Cæfar.
Now, in the name of all the Gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæfar feed,
That he is grown fo great? Age, thou art afham'd!
Rome, thou haft loft the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age fince the great flood,
But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they fay till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls encompafs'd but one man?
Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man.
O! you and I have heard our fathers fay
There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd
Th' eternal devil to keep his ftate in Rome
Julius Cæfar, A. 1. Sc. 2.
Miftruft of good fuccefs hath done this deed.
O hateful Error, Melancholy's child!
Why doft thou shew to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O Error, foon conceiv'd,
Thou never com'ft unto a happy birth,
But kill'ft the mother that engender'd thee.
Julius Cæfar, A. 5. Sc. 3.
ON HOTSPUR.
Brave Percy-Fare thee well!
Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too fmall a bound;
But now two paces of the vileft earth
Is room enough. This earth, that bears thee dead,
Bears not alive fo ftout a gentleman.
If thou wert fenfible of courtesy,
I should not make fo great a fhew of zeal.
But let my favours hide thy mangled face,
And, e'en in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing thefe fair rights of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praife with thee to heaven;
Thy ignominy fleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph.
Henry IV. Part I. A. 5. Sc. v.
The weary fun hath made a golden fet,
And, by the bright track of his fiery car,
Gives fignal of a goodly day to-morrow.
King Richard III. A. 5. Sc. 3.
EXECRATION.
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy foul!
Thy friends fufpect for traitors while thou liv'ft,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No fleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while fome tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
Thou that waft seal'd in thy nativity
The flave of nature, and the fon of hell!
Thou flander of thy mother's womb!
Thou loathed iffue of thy father's loins!
Thou rag of honour, thou detefted-
King Richard III. A. 1. Sc. 3.
Hear, Nature, hear! dear goddefs, hear!
Sufpend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful:
Into her womb convey fterility,
Dry up in her the organs of increase,
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If fhe muft teem,
Create her child of fpleen, that it may live,
And be a thwart difnatur'd torment to her :
Let it ftamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How fharper than a ferpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child!
Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall,
That girdleft in those wolves! dive in the earth,
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent;
Obedience fail in children; flaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled fenate from the bench,
And minister in their fteads; to general filth
Convert o' the inftant green Virginity!
Do 't in your parent's eyes. Bankrupts, hold faft;
Rather than render back, out with your knives,
And cut your trustees' throats. Bound fervants, fteal;
Large-handed robbers your grave mafters are,
And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy miftress is i' th' brothel. Son of fixteen,
Pluck the lin❜d crutch from thy old limping fire;
With it beat out his brains. Fear and piety,
Religion to the Gods, peace, juftice, truth,
Domestic awe, night reft, and neighbourhood,
Inftruction, manners, myfteries and trades,
Degrees, obfervances, cuftoms and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries!
And let confufion live!-Plagues, incident to men,
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for ftroke! Thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our fenators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners. Luft and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth,
That 'gainst the ftream of virtue they may ftrive,
And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bofoms, and their crop
Be general leprofy. Breathe infect breath,"
That their fociety, as their friendship, may
Be merely poifon. Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou deteftable town!
Take thou that too, with multiplying banns.
Timon will to the woods, where he fhall find
Th' unkindest beast much kinder than mankind.
The Gods confound (hear me, ye good Gods all!)
Th' Athenians both within and out that wall;
And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow,
To the whole race of mankind, high and low!
Timon of Athens, A. 4. Sc. 1.
In hollow bones of man, ftrike their sharp fhins,
And mar men's fpurring, Crack the lawyer's voice,
That he may never more false title plead,
Nor found his quillets fhrilly. Hoar the Flamen,
That fcolds against the quality of flesh,
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