Obrázky na stránke

Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
And will you rend our ancient love afunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend ?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly;
Our sex, as well as I, may


for it, Though I alone do feel the injury.

A Midsuminer Night's Dream, A. 3. Sc. 1. I was too young

that time to value her;
But now I know her: if she be a traitor,
Why so am I: we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together ;
And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled and inseparable.

As You Like It, A. 1. Sc. 3o

[blocks in formation]

If lusty Love should go in quest of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous Love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If Love ambitious fought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch?
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin, every way complete,

King John, A. 2. Sc. 1.
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many! with what loud applause
Did'st thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!
And now, being trimm'd up in thy own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.

Henry IV, Part II. A. 2, Sc. 6.

FICTION. O, what a rogue and peasant

slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this Player here,

But in a fi&tion, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That, from her working, all his visage wan’d:
Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting,
With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing ?
For Hecuba?
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for passion
That I have ? He would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free ;
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
The very faculty of ears and eyes.
Yet I,
A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can say nothing. No, not for a king,
Upon whose property and most dear life
A damn'd defeat was made, Ain I a coward ?
Who calls me villain, breaks my pate across,
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by th' nose, gives me the lye i' th’ throat,
As deep as to the lungs ? who does me this?
Yet I mould take it for it cannot be,
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall,
To make oppression bitter: or, ere this,
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain !
Remorseless, treacherous, letcherous, kindless villain !
Why, what an ass am I! 'This is most brave,
That I, the son of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,
Muft, like a whore, unpack my heart with words,
And fall a cursing, like a very drab,
A scallion. Fy upon't! foh,
About, my brain! I've heard,
That guilty creatures, fitting at a play,
Have, by the very cunning of the scene,
Been struck so to the soul, that presently

They my

They have proclaim'd their malefactions ;
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle. I'll observe his looks ;
l'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
I know my course. This spirit, that I have seen,
May be the devil ; and the devil hath power
To'assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and perhaps,
Out of weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such fpirits,
Abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds
More relative than this : the play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.

Hamlet, A. 2. Sc.2,

FIDELITY, If you suspect my husbandry, or falsehood, Call me before the exacteft auditors, And fet me on the proof. So the Gods bless me, When all our offices have been opprest With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept: With drunken spilth of wine ; when every room Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelly; I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock, And fet mine eyes at flow. Timon of Athens, A 2. Sc. 4.


These crochings, and these lowly courtefies,
Might fire the blood of ordinary men,
And turn pre-ordinance and first decree
Into the lane of children. Be not fond
To think that Cæfar bears such rebel blood,
That will be thaw'd from the true quality
With that which melteth fools ; I mean, sweet 'words,
Low-crooked curt'fies, and base spaniel fawning,
Thy brother, by decree, is banish'd :
If thou doft bend, and pray, and fawn for him,
Ispurn thee, like a cur, out of my way.
Know Cefar doth not wrong, nor without caufe
Will he be satisfieds

Julius Cæfar, A- 3. Sc. 1:


[ocr errors]

Sach smiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords in twain,
Too intrinsicate e unloose ; soothe every paffion
That in the nature of their lords rebels;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods,
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters ;
Knowing nought, like dogs, but following.

King Lear, A. 2. Sc. 1, Those


of thine from mine have drawn falt fears,
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops;
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,
Not when


father York and Edward wept, To hear the piteous moan that Rutland inade, When black-fac’d Clifford Thook his sword at him: Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, Told the fad story of my father's death, And twenty times made pause to fob and weep, That all the standers by had wet their cheeks, Like trees bedath'd with rain; in that sad time, Niy manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; And what these forrows could not thence exhale, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. I never sued to friend, nor enemy; My tongue could never learn fweet smoothing words ; But now thy beauty is propos'u my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

King Richard III. A. i. Sc. 2. Ha! Goneril!--With a white beard? - They flattered me like a dog, and told me I had white hairs in my heard, ere the black ones were there. To say Ay, and No, to every thing that I faid--Ay and No too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wat ine once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not

peace my

bid. ding; there I found 'em, there I smelt them out. they are rioc men o' their words ; they told me I was every thing ; 'tis a lye, I am not ague-proof.

King Lear, A. 4. Sc. 7.

Suppose that you have seen
The well-appointed king at Hampton Pier



Go to,



Embark his royalty, and his brave fleet
With silken streamers, the young Phæbus fanning,
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing ;
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden fails,
Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge. King Henry V. A. 3. Sc. 1.

[ocr errors]

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows,
Where ox-lip and the nociding violet grows,
O'er-canopied with luscious wood-bine,
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine :
There sleeps Titania, some time of the night,
Lall'd in these flowers with dances and delight:
And there the snake throws her enamel'd skin,
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

A Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 2. S. 2.




If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim,
Ugly, and fland'rous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots, and fightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,
Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content;
For then I should not love thee: no, nor thou
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.
But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy!
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great.
Of Nature's gifts thou may's with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose. King John, A. 3. Sc. 1.


Being scarce made up,
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for th' effect of judgment
Is off the cause of fear,

Cymbeline, A. 4. Sc. 4.

« PredošláPokračovať »