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In our heart's fable;* heart, too capable
Of every line and trickt of his sweet favour:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics.
I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Look bleak in the cold wind.
THE REMEDY OF EVILS GENERALLY IN
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
CHARACTER OF A NOBLE COURTIER.
In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He usd as creatures of another place:
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility.
Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times.
ACT II. HONOUR DUE TO PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY, NOT TO
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions* swell, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone
good, without a name; vileness is so:t
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our foregoer: the mere word's a slave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
A lying trophy, and as oft'is dumb,
Where dust and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed.
SELF-ACCUSATION OF TOO GREAT LOVE,
Poor Lord! is't I
That chase thee from thy country, and expose
Those tender limbs of thine to the event
Of the non-sparing war? and is it I
That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride upon the violent speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff, that do bold him to it;
Good is good independent of any worldly distinction, and so is vileness vile.
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: better 'twere,
I met the ravin* lion when he roar'd
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twerë
That all the miseries, which nature owes,
Were mine at once! No, come thou home, Rousillon;
Whence honour but of danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all; I will be gone:
My being here it is that holds thee hence:
Shall I stay here to doʻt? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house,
And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;
That pitiful rumour may report my flight,
To consolate thine ear.
A MAID'S HONOUR. The honour of a maid is her name; änd no legacy is so rich as honesty.
Beware of them, Diana; their promises, entice ments, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under:f many a maid hathi been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, I need not advise you farther; but, I hope, your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no farther danger known, than the modesty which is so lost.
CUSTOM OF SEDUCERS.
Ay, so you serve us,
Till we serve you: but when you have our roses
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,
And mock us with our bareness.
+ They are no- the things for which thoix names would make them pass
Mine honour's such a ring:
My chastity's the jewel of our house,
Bequeath'd down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world,
In me to lose.
LIFE CHEQUERED. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.
A COWARDLY BRAGGART. Yet am I thankful: if
heart were great, "Twould burst at this: Captain, I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall: simply 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 shall be found an ass. Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles live, Safest in shame! being foold, by foolery thrive! There's place, and means,
every man alive.
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them.
EXCUSE FOR UN SEASONABLE DISLIKE.
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue:
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n;
Extended or contracted all proportions,
To a most hideous object: Thence it came,
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have lov’d, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.
MODESTY AND COURAGE IN YOUTH.
I BESEECH you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your
and gentle wishes, go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.
We still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn’d, play'd, eat together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
ROSALIND PROPOSING TO WEAR MEN'S CLOTHES
Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-ax* upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will,
We'll have a swashingt and a martial outside: