I am undone, there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is fo above me! In his bright radiance and collateral light Muft I be comforted, not in his fphere. Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself; The hind, that would be mated by the lion, Muft die for love. 'Twas pretty, tho' a plague, To fee him every hour, to fit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table: heart, too capable Of every line and trick of his fweet favour! But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Muft fanctify his relics.

A parafitical, vain Coward.

I know him a notorious liar; Think him a great way fool, folely a coward; Yet thefe fix'd evils fit fo fit in him, That they take place, when virtue's ftcely bones Look bleak in the cold wind: withal full oft we fee

Cold wisdom waiting on fuperfluous folly.

The Remedy of Evils generally in ourselves.
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we afcribe to Heaven. The fated sky
Gives us free fcope; only doth backward pul
Our flow defigns, when tve ourselves are dull.
Impoffible be itrange attempts to those
That weigh their pain in fenfe, and do fuppofe
What hath been, cannot be. Who ever ftrove
To fhew her merit, that did mifs her love?

Chara&er of a noble Courtier, by an old
Cotemporary.

King. I would I had that corporal foundness

now,

As when thy father and myfelf in friendship
First tried our foldierthip! He did look far
Into the fervice of the time, and was
Difcipled of the bravest. He lafted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father. In his youth
He had the wit which I can well obferve
To-day in our young Lords; but they may jeft,
Till their own fcorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour;
So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness
Were in his pride or fharpnets; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them, and his honour,
Clock to itfelf, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak; and at that time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him
He us'd as creatures of another place,

And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praife he humbled: fuch a man
Might be a copy to thefe younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonftrate them
But goers backward.
[now
Would I were with him!-He would always
fay-

(Methinks I hear him new) his plaufiye wordę b

He

[thou

lord!

He scatter'd not in ears; but grafted them
To grow there, and to bear,Let me not
(Thus his good melancholy oft began,
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,
When it was out) Let me not live,' quoth he,
After my flame lacks oil; to be the fnuff
Of younger fpirits, whofe apprehenfive fenfes
All but new things difdain; whofe judgments
[ftancies
Mere fathers of their garments; whofe con-
Expire before their fathions.'-This he wifhed.
I, after him, do after him with too
(Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home)
I quickly were diffolved from my hive,
To give fome labourer room.

6 arc

From fimple fources; and great seas have dried,
When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there,
Where most it promifes; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldeft, and defpair moft fits.

Honour due to perfonal Virtue, not to Birth.
Strange is it, that our bloods, [gether,
Whofe colour, weight, and heat, pour'd out to-
Would quite confound diftinction, yet ftand off
In differences fo mighty. If the be
All that is virtuous (fave what thou diflik'st,
A poor phyfician's daughter), thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name. But do not fo
From loweft place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed.
Where great addition fwells, and virtue none,
It is a dropfied honour; good alone
Is good, without a name; vileness is fo:
The property, by what it is, fhould go,
Not by the title. She is young, wife, fair;
In thefe, to nature fhe's immediate heir;
And thefe breed honour: that is honour's fcorn,
Which challenges itfelf as honours born
And is not like the fire. Honours thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a flave
Debauch'd on every tomb, on every grave;
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,
Where duft and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed.

Self Accufation of too great Love.
Poor lord! is't I

That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Thofe tender limbs of thine to the event

Were mine at once. No, come thou home
Rouillon,

Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it lofes all. I will be gone:

My being here it is, that holds thee hence.
Shall I ftay here to do it? No, no, although
The air. of Paradife did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,

To confolate thine ear.

Cuftom of Seducers.
Ay, fo you ferve us,

Till we ferve
you; but when you have our roses,
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,
And mock us with our bareneis.

Chastity.

Mine honour's fuch a ring:

My chastity's the jewel of our houfe, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world In me to lofe.

Cowardly Braggart.

Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this: Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat, and drink, and fleep, as foft As captain fhall: fimply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart,

Let him fear this; for it will come to pass,
That every braggart fhall be found an-afs.
Ruft, fword! cool, blushes' and, Parolles, live
Safeftin fhame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
There's place and means for every man alive.
The Rafbnefs of Youth exerfed.

I befeech your majefty to make it Natural rebellion, done i' the blade of youth, When oil and fire, too ftrong for reaton's force, O'erbears it, and burns on.

What's left most valued.
Praising what is loft,

Makes the remembrance dear.

Excufe for unreasonable Diflike.

At first Iftuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durft make too bold a herald of my tongue: Where the impreffion of mine eye enfixing, Contempt his fcornful perfpective did lend me, Which warp'd the line of every other favour; Scorn'd a fair colour, or exprefs'd it stolen; Extended or contracted all proportions To a moft hideous object: thence it came, That the whom all men prais'd, and whom myfelf, Since I have loft, have lov'd, was in my eye The duft that did offend it.

Impediments ftimulate.

As "all impediments in fancy's course Are motives of mere fancy."

§ 2. AS YOU LIKE IT. SHAKSPEARE.

Playfellows.

WE have ftill flept together,

[gether; Rofe at an inftant, learn'd, play'd, eat to And wherefoe'er we went, like Juno's fwans, Still we went coupled, and infeparable.

Fond youthful Friendship.

Celia. Oh my poor Rofalind, whither wilt thou go?

Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am.
Rofalind. I have more caufe.
Celia. Thou haft not, cousin.
Pr'ythee be cheerful: know 'ft thou not, the Duke
Has banish'd me, his daughter?

Rofalind. That he hath not.

[love

Celia. No hath not? Rofalind lacks then the Which teacheth me that thou and I are one:

Shall we be fundered? Shall we part, fweet girl?
No-let my father feek another heir.
Therefore devife with me how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us;
And do not feek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out.
For by this heaven, now at our forrows pale,
Say what thou canft, I'll go along with thee.
Beauty.

Beauty provoketh thieves fooner than gold.

Woman in a Man's Drefs.

Were 't not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did fuit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar-fpear in my hand; and (in my heart, Lie there what hidden woman's fears there will) I'll have a fwashing and a martial outside; As many other mannith cowards have, That do outface it with their femblances.

Sermons in ftones, and good in every thing.
I would not change it!

Amiens. Happy is your grace,

That can tranflate the ftubbornnefs of fortune Into fo quiet and so sweet a style!

Reflections on a wounded Stag, and on the melancholy Jaques.

And

Come, fhall we go and kill us venifon? Being native burghers of this defart city, yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, Should in their old confines, with forked heads, Have their round haunches goar'd.

ift Lord. Indeed, my Lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that; And, in that kind, fwears you do more ufurp Than doth your brother that has banifh'd you. To-day my lord of Amiens, and myself, Did fteal behind him, as he lay along Under an oak, whofe antique roots peep out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: To the which place a poor fequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth fuch groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting: and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe In piteous chace; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on th' extremeft verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears.

Duke f. But what faid Jaques ? Did he not moralize this fpectacle?

ift Lord. O yes, into a thousand fimiles. First, for his weeping in the needlefs ftream; Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a teftament As worldlings do, giving thy fum of more [alone, To that which had too much. Then, being there Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; 'Tis right, quoth he, thus misery doth part The flux of company. Anon, a carelefs herd, Full of the pafture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him: Ay, quoth Jaques, Sweep on, you fat and greafy citizens; 'Tis juft the fashion: wherefore do look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?

you

Advantages of Adverfity.

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old cuftom made this life more fweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not thefe woods More free from peril than the envious court?

The body of the country, city, court,
Yea, and of this our life; fwearing that we
Are mere ufurpers, tyrants, and what's worse,
To fright the animals, and kill them up,
In their affign'd and native dwelling-place.

D.f. And

D. f. And did you leave him in this contemplation? [menting Amiens. We did, my lord, weeping and comUpon the fobbing deer.

D. f. Shew me the place;

I love to cope him in these fullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.

Confpicuous Virtue expofed to Envy.
Adam. What! my young malier? O my gentle

mafter,

O my fweet mafter! O you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! why what make
you here?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, ftrong, and valiant?
Why would you be to fond to overcome
The bony prifer of the humorous duke?
Your praife is come too fwiftly home before you.
Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men
Their graces ferve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle mafter,
Are fanctified and holy traitors to you.
Oh what a world is this, when what is comely
Epvenoms him that bears it!

crowns,

The thrifty hire I fav'd under your father,
Which I did ftore, to be my fofter nurfe
When fervice fhould in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown;
Take that: and he that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the fparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you: let me be your fervant;
Tho' I look old, yet I am ftrong and lufty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood:
Nor did not with unbathful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility:
Therefore my age is as a lufty winter,
Frofty but kindly let me go with you,
I'll do the fervice of a younger man
In all your bufinefs and necuifities.

Eappears
Orlando. O good old man; how well in thee
The contant fervice of the antique world,
When fervants fweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fathion of thefe times,
Where none will fweat but for promotion;
And, having that, do choak their fervice up,
Even with the having: it is not fo with thee.
But, poor old man, thou prun'ft a rotten tree,
That cannot fo much as a bloffom yield,
In lieu of all thy pains and hufbandry.
Bot come thy ways, we'll go along together,

quoth he,

[tune. 'Call me not fool, till Heaven hath fent me forAnd then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-luftre eye, Says, very wifely, ' It is ten o'clock:

Thus may we fee,' quoth he, howtheworldwags: 'Tis but an hour ago fince it was nine; 'And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And fo from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools fhould be fo deep contemplative: And I did laugh, fans intermiflion, An hour by his dial.

[courtier,

Duke. What fool is this? Jaques. O worthy fool! one that hath been a And fays, if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder bifcuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm' With obfervation, the which he vents In mangled forms. Oh that I were a fool! I am ambitious for a motley coat!

A Fool's Liberty of Speech.

Duke. Thou shalt have one. Jaques. It is my only fuit: Provided that you weed your better judgments Of ali opinion, that grows rank in them, That I am wife. I muft have liberty Withal; as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I pleafe; for fo fools have: And they that are most gailed with Π.Υ follv.