and, though her body die, her fame survives,
a secular bird, ages of lives.
840 Man. Come, come; no time for lamentation now nor much more cause; Samson hath quit himself like Samson, and heroicly hath finished
a life heroic, on his enemies
fully revenged; hath left them years of mourning,
and lamentation to the sons of Caphtor,
through all Philistian bounds; to Israël
honour hath left and freedom, let but them
find courage to lay hold on this occasion;
to himself and father's house eternal fame;
and, which is best and happiest yet, all this
with God not parted from him, as was feared,
but favouring and assisting to the end.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail
or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair, and what may quiet us in a death so noble. 841 Let us go find the body where it lies
soaked in his enemies' blood, and from the stream
with lavers pure and cleansing herbs wash off
the clotted gore. I with what speed the while
will send for all my kindred, all my friends,
to fetch him hence, and solemnly attend,
with silent obsequy and funeral train,
home to his father's house. There will I build him
a monument, and plant it round with shade
of laurel ever-green, and branching palm,
with all his trophies hung, and acts inrolled
in copious legend, or sweet lyric song.
Thither shall all the valiant youth resort,
and from his memory inflame their breasts
to matchless valour and adventures high:
the virgins also shall, on feastful days,
visit his tomb with flowers, only bewailing
his lot unfortunate in nuptial choice,
from whence captivity and loss of eyes.
ND when the dead by cruel tyrant's spite,
his yearnful heart pitying that wretched sight,
in seemly graves their weary flesh enclosed,
and strewed with dainty flowers the lowly hearse; then all alone the last words did rehearse, bidding them softly sleep in his sad sighing verse.
So once that royal maid fierce Thebes beguiled,
though wilful Creon proudly did forbid her,
her brother, from his home and tomb exiled,
(while willing night in darkness safely hid her)
she lowly laid in Earth's all covering shade:
her dainty hands (not used to such a trade)
she with a mattock toils, and with a weary spade.
Yet feels she neither sweat nor irksome pain,
till now his grave was fully finished;
then on his wounds her cloudy eyes 'gin rain,
to wash the guilt painted in bloody red:
and falling down upon his goréd side,
with hundred varied 'plaints she often cry'd, 'Oh, had I died for thee, or with thee might have
843 WARWICK BY THE DEAD Body of gloster
DO believe that violent hands were laid
upon the life of this thrice-faméd duke.
See how the blood is settled in his face!
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
of ashy semblance, meager, pale and bloodless,
being all descended to the labouring heart;
who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth
to blush and beautify the cheek again.
But see, his face is black, and full of blood;
his eyeballs further out than when he liv'd,
staring full ghastly like a strangled man;
his hair up-rear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling;
his hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
and tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued:
look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking;
his well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged,
like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
the least of all these signs were probable.
FIRST WITCH-HECATE
HY, how now, Hecate! you look angerly.
Have I not reason, beldams as you are,
saucy and over-bold? How did you dare,
to trade and traffick with Macbeth,
in riddles and affairs of death;
and I, the mistress of your charms,
the close contriver of all harms,
was never call'd to bear my part,
or shew the glory of our art?
and, which is worse, all you have done,
hath been but for a wayward son,
spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do,
loves for his own ends, not for you.
But make amends now: get you gone,
and at the pit of Acheron
meet me i' the morning; thither he
will come to know his destiny.
Your vessels and your spells provide,
your charms, and every thing beside:
I am for the air; this night I'll spend
unto a dismal and a fatal end.
Y heart is awed within me, when I think
Mof the great miracle that still goes on
in silence round me-the perpetual work
of the creation, finished, yet renewed
Written on thy works I read
the lesson of thy own eternity.
Lo! all grow old and die—but see, again,
how on the faltering footsteps of decay
youth presses-ever gay and beautiful youth
in all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees
wave not less proudly that their ancestors
moulder beneath them. Oh! there is not lost
one of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet,
after the flight of untold centuries,
the freshness of her far beginning lies
and yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate
of his arch-enemy Death-yea, seats himself
upon the tyrant's throne-the sepulchre,
and of the triumphs of his ghastly foe
Imakes his own nourishment. For he came forth
from thine own bosom, and shall have no end.
'HE high estate your lordship once did wield, the many friends that fawn'd when fortune smil'd, your great promotions, and your mighty wealth, these (were I Marius) would amate me so,
as loss of them would vex me more than death. Ma. Is lordship then so great a bliss, my friend? Ja. No title may compare with princely rule. Ma. Are friends so faithful pledges of delight? Ja. What better comforts than are faithful friends? Ma. Is wealth a mean to lengthen life's content? Ja. Where great possessions bide, what care can touch? Ma. These stales of fortune are the common plagues that still mislead the thoughts of simple men. The shepherd swain, that 'midst his country cot deludes his broken slumbers by his toil,
thinks lordship sweet, when care with lordship dwells.
The trustful man that builds on trothless vows,
whose simple thoughts are cross'd with scornful ways,
together weeps the loss of wealth and friend:
so lordship, friends, wealth, spring and perish fast,
where death alone yields happy life at last.
MATHIAS TO KING LADISLAUS
dread sir, as 'tis affirmed, that every soil,
where he is well, is to a valiant man
his natural country, reason may assure me
I should fix here, where blessings beyond hope,
from you, the spring, like rivers, flow unto me.
If wealth were my ambition, by the queen
I am made rich already to the amazement
of all that see, or shall hereafter read
the story of her bounty: if to spend
the remnant of my life in deeds of arms,
no region is more fertile of good knights,
from whom my knowledge that way may be better'd,
than this your warlike Hungary:—if favour
or grace in court could take me, by your grant,
far, far, beyond my merit, I may make
in yours a free election; but, alas! sir,
I am not mine own, but by my destiny
(which I cannot resist) forced to prefer
my country's smoke before the glorious fire
with which your bounties warm me.
'HE air is pleasant, and the soil most fit
for cities, and society's supports;
yet much I marvel that I cannot find
no steps of men imprinted in the earth.-
Ven. Ho, young men! saw you, as you came,
any of all my sisters wandering here,
having a quiver girded to her side,
and clothed in a spotted leopard's skin?
En. I neither saw nor heard of any such.
But what may I, fair virgin, call your name,
whose looks set forth no mortal form to view,
nor speech bewrays aught human in thy birth?
Thou art a goddess that delud'st our eyes,
and shroud'st thy beauty in this borrowed shape:
but whether thou the Sun's bright sister be,
or one of chaste Diana's fellow-nymphs,
live happy in the height of all content,
and lighten our extremes with this one boon,
as to instruct us under what good heaven
we breathe as now, and what this world is call'd
on which by tempests' fury we are cast.
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