Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance; commits his body To painful labour, both by sea and land; To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; And craves no other tribute at thy hands, But love, fair looks, and true obedience :-Too little payment for so great a debt. Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband: And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will, Above their functions and their offices. Love's feeling is more soft and sensible Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross For valour, is not love a Hercules, O, then his lines would ravage savage ears, WINTER. WHEN icicles hang by the wall, THE ABUSE OF AUTHORITY. And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, COULD great men thunder And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home i' the When blood is nipt, and ways be foul, Tu-whit; tu-whoo! a merry note, When all aloud the wind doth blow, Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note, SERENADE TO SYLVIA. WHO is Sylvia? what is she, As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er For every pelting, petty officer, Thou rather, with thy sharp and sul- Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle : O, but man, proud man! Drest in a little brief authority Most ignorant of what he's most assured, As make the angels weep. THE FEAR OF DEATH. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling!-'t is too horrible! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise SLANDER. Cymbeline. No, 'tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword: whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters. HARK! HARK! THE LARK! HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In speaking for myself. Yet, by your I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver gracious patience, Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic (For such proceeding I am charged withal), I won his daughter with. And sold to slavery; of my redemption OTHELLO'S SOLILOQUY BEFORE thence, passing strange; "Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That Heaven had made her such a man : she thank'd me ; And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake : She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd; And I loved her, that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used. MURDERING HIS WIFE. IT is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! It is the cause.-Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then-put out the light? If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, Thou cunningest pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat, That can thy light relume. JEALOUSY. TRIFLES, light as air, Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. SCENE BETWEEN OTHELLO AND DESDEMONA. Desdemona. Alas, the heavy day!— Why do you weep? Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord? If, haply, you my father do suspect, EMILIA'S INDIGNATION AGAINST SLANDERERS. I WILL be hang'd, if some eternal villain, Hath not devis'd this slander; I'll be hanged else. The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow - O heaven, that such companions thou'dst unfold, And put in every honest hand a whip, To lash the rascals naked through the world, Even from the east to the west! REPUTATION. GOOD name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls; |