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upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England,
and cited up a thousand heavy times,
during the wars of York and Lancaster
that had befall’n us. As we pac'd along
upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
methought that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling,
struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board,
into the tumbling billows of the main.
O Lord ! methought, what pain it was to drown!
what dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
what sights of ugly death within mine eyes !
methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
a thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon:
wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
all scatter'd in the bottom of the sea.
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(as 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems,
that woe'd the slimy bottom of the deep,

and mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. Br. Had you such leisure in the hour of death to gaze upon these secrets of the deep?

Methought I had; and often did I strive
to yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
stopt in my soul, and would not let it forth,
to find the empty, vast, and wandering air ;
but smother'd it within my panting bulk,

which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Br. Awaked you not in this sore agony ?

No, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life ;
O, then began the tempest to my soul !
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
with that grim ferryman which poets write of,
unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
who cried aloud:—'What scourge for perjury
can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
and so he vanished. Then came wandering by
a shadow like an angel, with bright hair
dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud, -
• Clarence is come,-false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,-
that stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ;-

950 Cl.

seize on him, furies, take him to your torments !!
with that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
environ'd me, and howléd in mine ears
such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling wak’d, and, for a season after,
could not believe but that I was in hell;
such terrible impression made my dream.






PEAK you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you:


and therefore put I on the countenance
of stern commandment: but whate'er you are,
that in this desert inaccessible,
under the shade of melancholy boughs,
lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
if ever you have look'd on better days,
if ever sat at any good man's feast;
if ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear,
and know what 'tis to pity and be pitied;
let gentleness my strong enforcement be:

in the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. Du. True is it that we have seen better days;

and sat at good men's feasts, and wip'd our eyes
of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd;
and therefore sit you down in gentleness,
and take upon command what help we have,

that to your wanting may be ministered. Orl. Then, but forbear your food a little while

whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn,
and give it food. There an old poor man,
who after me hath many a weary step
limped in pure love; till he be first sufficed,
oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger,-
I will not touch a bit.







you first,
I was to inhabit in a place unknown;

’tis very certain, for this reverend seat
receives me as a pupil; rather gives
ornament to our person, than our person
the least of grace to it. I show'd you next
I am to travail; 'tis a certain truth;
look! by how much the labour of the mind
exceeds the body's, so far am I bound
with pain and industry, beyond the toil
of those that sweat in war: beyond the toil
of any artisan: pale cheeks, and sunk eyes,
a head with watching dizzied, and a hair
turn'd white in youth,-all these at a dear rate
we purchased speedily that tend a state.
I told you 'I must leave you; 'tis most true:
henceforth the face of a barbarian
and yours shall be all one; henceforth I'll know you
but only by your virtue: brother or father,
in a dishonest suit, shall be to me
as is the branded slave. Justice should have
no kindred, friends nor foes, nor hate nor love;
as free from passion as the gods above.
I was your friend and kindsman, now your judge;
and whilst I hold the scales, a downy feather
shall as soon turn them as a mass of pearl
or diamonds.




"HEREFORE lay bare your bosom.

Ay, his breast; so says the bond:-doth it not, noble judge?

nearest his heart: those are the very words. Por. It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh

the flesh? Shy.

I have them ready.
Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,

to stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond?
Por. It is not so express’d; but what of that?

'twere good you do so much for charity.
Shy. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.
Por. Come, merchant, have you anything to say?
Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepar'd.-

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Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!
grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
for herein Fortune shews herself more kind
than is her custom: it is still her use
to let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
to view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow,
an age of poverty: from which lingering penance
of such misery doth she cut me off.
Commend me to your honourable wife:
tell her the process of Antonio's end;
say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;
and, when the tale is told, bid her be judge,
whether Bassanio had not once a love.


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THE season tham's innocent may well be wise.

comes with you

But not inevitably one with wisdom
is innocent love at all times and with all.
Love changes with the changing life of man:
in its first youth, sufficient to itself,
heedless of all beside, it reigns alone,
revels or storms and spends itself in passion.
In middle-age,-a garden through whose soil
the roots of neighbouring forest trees have crept,--
it strikes on stringy customs buried deep,
perhaps on alien passions: still it grows
and lacks not force nor freshness: but this age
shall aptly chuse as answering best its own
a love that clings not nor is exigent,
encumbers not the active purposes,
nor drains their source; but proffers with free grace
pleasure at pleasure touched, at pleasure waived,
a washing of the weary traveller's feet,
a quenching of his thirst, a sweet repose,
alternate and preparative, in groves
where loving much the flower that loves the shade,
and loving much the shade that that flower loves,
he yet is unbewildered, unenslaved,
thence starting light and pleasantly let go
when serious service calls.



Do they live still?


Seb. Yes and make to harbour.
Nic. Most miserable men! I grieve their fortunes.
Seb. How happy had they been, had the sea covered them!

they leap from one calamity to another;
had they been drowned, they had ended all their

What shouts of joy they make!
Nic. Alas, poor wretches!

had they but once experience of this island,

they'd turn their tunes to wailings. Seb. Nay, to curses,

that ever they set foot on such calamities:
here is nothing but rocks and barrenness,
no summer here, to promise anything,
nor autumn, to make full the reaper's hands,
the earth, obdurate to the tears of heaven,
lets nothing shoot but poisoned weeds;
no rivers nor no pleasant groves, no beasts;
all that were made for man's use fly this desert:
no airy fowl dares make his flight over it,
it is so ominous :
serpents and ugly things, the shames of nature,

roots of malignant tastes, foul standing waters. Nic. Oh, uncle, yet a little memory

of what we were! 'twill be a little comfort
in our calamities :
when we were seated in our blesséd homes,
how happy in our kindreds, in our families,
in all our fortunes !




My Mother Earth!

and thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye

why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye.
And thou, the bright eye of the universe,
that openest over all, and unto all
art a delight—thou shin’st not on my heart.

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