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and make me as the poorest vassal is,

that doth with awe and terror kneel to it! K. H. O my son!

Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence,
that thou might'st win the more thy father's love,
pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed;
and hear, I think, the very latest counsel
that ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son,
by what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,
I met this crown; and I myself know well,
how troublesome it sat upon my head:
to thee it shall descend with better quiet,
better opinion, better confirmation;
for all the soil of the achievement goes
with me into the earth. It seem'd in me
but as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand;
and I had many living, to upbraid
my gain of it by their assistances;

which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, 978 wounding supposed peace. All these bold fears,

thou see'st with peril I have answered:
for all my reign hath been but as a scene
acting that argument; and now my death
changes the mode: for what in me was purchased,
falls upon thee in a more fairer sort;
so thou the garland wear'st successively.
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green;
and all thy friends, which thou must make thy

friends,
have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out,
by whose fell working I was first advanc’d,
and by whose power I well might lodge a fear
to be again displac’d: which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now
to lead out many to the Holy Land;
lest rest, and lying still, might make them look
too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
be it thy course, to busy giddy minds
with foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
may waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
that strength of speech is utterly denied me.

How came I by the crown, O God, forgive ! and grant it may with thee in true peace live!

W. SHAKESPEARE

979 THE DECEIT OF ORNAMENT OR APPEARANCES

BASSANIO

THE

"HE world is still deceived with ornament.

In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, but being season'd with a gracious voice obscures the show of evil? In religion, what damnéd error, but some sober brow will bless it and approve it with a text, hiding the grossness with fair ornament? There is no vice so simple, but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts: how many cowards, whose hearts are all as false as stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins the beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; who, inward search’d, have livers white as milk; and these assume but valour's excrement, to render them redoubted! Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; which therein works a miracle in nature, making them lightest that wear most of it: so are those crispéd snaky golden locks, which make such wanton gambols with the wind, upon supposed fairness, often known to be the dowry of a second head, the skull that bred them in the sepulchre. Thus ornament is but the guiléd shore to a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, the seeming truth which cunning times put on to entrap the wisest.

W. SHAKESPEARE

980

MELLIDA'S DEATH

MARCIA-PIERO

Mar.

O

PITEOUS end of love! Oh, too rude hand

of unrespective death! Alas, sweet maid ! Forbear me, Heaven! What intend these plaints?

Pie.

Mar. The beauty of admired creation,

the life of modest unmixt purity,

our sexes' glory, Mellida is-
Pie. What, O Heaven, what!
Mar. Dead!
Pie. May it not sad your thoughts, how!
Mar. Being laid upon her bed, she graspt my hand,

and kissing it spake thus: Thou very poor,
why dost not weep? The jewel of thy brow,
the rich adornment that inchac't thy breast,
is lost : thy son, my love, is lost, is dead.
And do I live to say Antonio's dead?
and have I liv'd to see his virtues blurd
with guiltless blots? O world, thou art too subtile
for honest natures to converse withal,
therefore I'll leave thee: farewell, mart of woe,
I fly to clip my love, Antonio!
With that her head sunk down upon her breast;
her cheek chang'd earth, her senses slept in rest
until my fool, that press'd unto the bed,
screecht out so loud, that he brought back her soul,
called her again, that her bright eyes ’gan ope,
and stared upon him : he, audacious fool,
dared kiss her hand, wish'd her soft rest, lov'd bride;
she fumbled out, thanks good, and so she died.

J. MARSTON

:

981

CONSOLATION UNDER BANISHMENT

JOHN OF GAUNT—BOLINGBROKE Ga. A are to a wise man ports and happy havens:

LL places that the eye of heaven visits teach thy necessity to reason thus: there is no virtue like necessity. Think not the king did banish thee; but thou the king: Woe doth the heavier sit, where it perceives it is but faintly borne. Go say, I sent thee forth to purchase honour, and not, The king exiled thee: or suppose, devouring pestilence hangs in our air, and thou art flying to a fresher clime. Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it to lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st:

suppose the singing-birds musicians,
the grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd,
the flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more
than a delightful measure or a dance:
for gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite

the man that mocks at it and sets it light.
Bol. O, who can hold a fire in his hand

by thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
or clog the hungry edge of appetite
by bare imagination of a feast?
or wallow naked in December snow
by thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Oh, no! the apprehension of the good
gives but the greater feeling to the worse.

W. SHAKESPEARE

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O

HAUNT his midnight dreams, black Nemesis !

whom, self-conceiving, in the inmost depths of Chaos blackest Night long labouring bore, when the stern Destinies, her elder brood, and shapeless Death, from that more monstrous birth leapt shuddering! haunt his slumbers, Nemesis! scorch with the fires of Phlegethon his heart, till helpless, hopeless, heaven-abandoned wretch, he too shall seek beneath the unfathomed deep to hide him from thy fury. How the sea far distant glitters as the sunbeams smile and gaily wanton o'er its heaving breast ! Phæbus shines forth, nor wears one cloud to mourn his votary's sorrows. God of day, shine on! by men despised, forsaken by the Gods, I supplicate no more. How many a day, O pleasant Lesbos, in thy secret streams delighted have I plunged, from the hot sun screened by the o'erarching grove's delightful shade, and pillowed on the waters. Now the waves shall chill me to repose. Tremendous height! scarce to the brink will these rebellious limbs support me. Hark! how the rude deep below roars round the rugged base, as if it called its long reluctant victim! I will come.

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One leap, and all is over. The deep rest
of death, or tranquil apathy's dead calm,
welcome alike to me, Away, vain fears !

R. SOUTHEY

983 REFLECTIONS ON THE MURDER OF PRINCE PORREX

BY HIS MOTHER VIDEN

W ,

HEN gredy lust in royall seate to reigne

and cruell hart, wrath, treason and disdaine,
within ambicious brest are lodged ; then
beholde how mischiefe wide her selfe displayes,
and with the brother's hand the brother slayes.

When bloud thus shed doth staine the heavens face,
crying to Jove for vengeance of the deede,
the mightie God even moveth from his place
with wrath to wreke, then sendes he forth with spede
the dreadfull furies, daughters of the night,
with serpentes girt, carying the whip of ire,
with heare of stinging snakes, and shining bright
with flames and bloud, and with a brand of fire;
these for revenge of wretched murder done,
do make the mother kill her onely sonne.

Bloud asketh bloud, and death must death requite:
Jove by his just and everlasting dome
justly hath ever so requited it.
This times before recorde, and times to come
shall finde it true, and so dooth present proofe
present before our eies for our behoofe.

O happie wight that suffres not the snare
of murderous minde to tangle him in blood !
and happy he that can in time beware
by others harmes, and turne it to his good:
but wo to him that fearing not to offend,
doth serve his lust, and will not see the end.

SACKVILLE AND NORTON

984

AULUS DIDIUS-CARACTACUS
Aul.

THE
'HE morn doth hasten our departure :

prepare thee, King, to go: a favouring gale
now swells our sails.
Car.

Inhuman that thou art!

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