528

I have so long, as if by Nature's right,
thy bosom's inmate and adviser been,

I thought through life I should have so remained,
nor ever known a change. Forgive me, brother,
a humbler station will I take by thee;
the close attendant of thy wandering steps,
the cheerer of this home, with strangers sought,
the soother of those griefs I must not know.
This is mine office now: I ask no more.

ENEAS TO VENUS DISGUISED

F Troy am I, Æneas is my name;

OF

who, driven by war from forth my native world,

put sails to sea to seek out Italy;

and my divine descent from sceptred Jove:

with twice twelve Phrygian ships I plough'd the deep,
and made that way my mother Venus led;
but of them all scarce seven do anchor safe,
and they so wrack'd and welter'd by the waves,
as every tide tilts 'twixt their oaken sides;
and all of them, unburthen'd of their load,
are ballassed with billows' watery weight.
But hapless I, God wot, poor and unknown,
do trace these Libyan deserts all despis'd,
exil'd forth Europe and wide Asia both,
and have not any coverture but heaven.

C. MARLOWE

529 THE ATtendant spirit, habited like thyrsiS

A SHEPHERD-ELDER BROTHER-SECOND BROTHER

Sp. W
WHAT

voice is that? my young lord? speak again. 2 Br. O Brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure.

1 Br. Thyrsis! whose artful strains have oft delayed the huddling brook to hear his madrigal,

and sweetened every musk-rose of the dale? How cam'st thou here, good swain? Hath any ram slipped from the fold, or young kid lost its dam, or straggling wether the pent flock forsook? How could'st thou find this dark sequestered nook? Sp. O my loved master's heir, and his next joy, I came not here on such a trivial toy as a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth

of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth

that doth enrich these downs is worth a thought to this my errand, and the care it brought. 530 But, oh! my virgin Lady, where is she?

How chance she is not in your company? I Br. To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blame or our neglect, we lost her as we came. Sp. Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true. 1 Br. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prythee briefly shew. Sp. I'll tell ye. 'Tis not vain or fabulous

-though so esteemed by shallow ignorance

what the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse, storied of old in high immortal verse,

of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles,

and rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell; for such there be, but unbelief is blind. 531 Within the navel of this hideous wood, immured in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells, of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, deep-skilled in all his mother's witcheries; and here to every thirsty wanderer

by sly enticement gives his baneful cup,

with many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison
the visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
and the inglorious likeness of a beast
fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage
Icharactered in the face: This have I learnt
tending my flocks hard by, i' the hilly crofts,
that brow this bottom-glade, whence night by night
he and his monstrous rout are heard to howl,
like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey,
doing abhorred rites to Hecaté,

in their obscured haunts of inward bowers.
532 Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells,
to inveigle and invite the unwary sense
of them that pass unweeting by the way.
This evening late, by then the chewing flocks
had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb
of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,
I sat me down to watch upon a bank
with ivy canopied, and interwove
with flaunting honey-suckle, and began,
wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy,

to meditate my rural minstrelsy,

till Fancy had her fill. But ere a close,
the wonted roar was up amidst the woods,
and fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance;
at which I ceased, and listen'd them awhile,
till an unusual stop of sudden silence
gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds,
that draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep.

J. MILTON

533

SIR

QUEEN CATHARINE'S SPEECH

IR, I desire you do me right and justice; and to bestow your pity on me: for I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, born out of your dominions; having here no judge indifferent, nor no more assurance of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, Sir, in what have I offended you? what cause hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, that thus you should proceed to put me off, and take your good grace from me? Heaven witness, I have been to you a true and humble wife, at all times to your will conformable:

ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

yea, subject to your countenance,-glad, or sorry, 534 as I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour,

I ever contradicted your desire,

or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
have I not strove to love, although I knew

he were mine enemy? what friend of mine
that had to him deriv'd your anger, did I
continue in my liking? nay, gave notice

he was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to mind
that I have been your wife, in this obedience,
upward of twenty years, and have been blest
with many children by you: If, in the course
and process of this time, you can report,
and prove it too, against mine honour aught,
my bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
against your sacred person, in God's name,
turn me away; and let the foull'st contempt

shut door upon me, and so give me up 535 to the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, Sir, the king, your father, was reputed for

536

a prince most prudent, of an excellent

and unmatch'd wit and judgement: Ferdinand
my father, king of Spain, was reckon❜d one
the wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many
a year before it is not to be question'd
that they had gather'd a wise council to them

of every realm, that did debate this business,

who deem'd our marriage lawful: wherefore I humbly
beseech you, Sir, to spare me, till I may ·

be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counsel
I will implore: if not, i̇'the name of God
your pleasure be fulfill'd!

Luc.

W. SHAKESPEARE

LUCIUS SON OF TITUS ANDRONICUS-GOTHS

PPROVED warriors and my faithful friends,

A have received letters from great Rome

which signify, what hate they bear their emperor,
and how desirous of our sight they are.
Therefore, great lords, impatient of your wrongs,
wherein the prince hath done you any scath,
let him make treble satisfaction.

1 Goth. Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus,
thy name was once our terror, now our comfort:
whose high exploits and honourable deeds
ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt,
be bold in us; we'll follow where thou lead'st,—
and be avenged on the accursed queen.

Goths. And as he saith, so say we all with him.
Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all.

537

Kath.

W. SHAKESPEARE

QUEEN CATHARINE-CARDINAL WOLSEY

My lords, I thank you both for your good wills;

ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye
prove so!)

but how to make ye suddenly an answer,
in such a point of weight, so near mine honour
(more near my life, I fear), with my weak wit,

and to such men of gravity and learning,
in truth, I know not. I was set at work
among my maids; full little, God knows, looking
either for such men or such business.

For her sake that I have been, (for I feel
the last fit of my greatness,) good your graces,
let me have time and counsel for my cause;
alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless!

Wols. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears; your hopes and friends are infinite.

538

539

I

W.

CHARACTER OF LAUNOY

PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE

SHAKESPEARE

NEVER looked that he should live so long.
He was a man of that unsleeping spirit,

he seemed to live by miracle: his food
was glory, which was poison to his mind
and peril to his body. He was one

of many thousand such that die betimes,
whose story is a fragment, known to few.
Then comes the man who has the luck to live,
and he's a prodigy. Compute the chances,
and deem there's ne'er a one in dangerous times
who wins the race of glory, but than him

a thousand men more gloriously endowed
have fallen upon the course: a thousand others
have had their fortunes foundered by a chance.
The world knows nothing of its greatest men.

MY

REMORSE

H. TAYLOR

eyes are witness to his sad complaints; how the good hermit seems to share his moans, which in the day-time he deplores 'mongst trees, and in the night his cave is fill'd with sighs; no other bed doth his weak limb support than the cold earth: no other harmony to rock his cares asleep, but blustering winds, or some swift current, headlong rushing down from a high mountain's top, pouring his force into the ocean's gulph, where being swallow'd seems to bewail his fall with hideous words: