THE

BEAUTIES

OF

SHAKSPEARE.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

ACT I.

ADVICE.

BE thou blest Bertram!

and succeed thy father 'n manners, as in shape! Thy blood, and virtue, ontend for empire in thee; and thy goodness hare with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, o wrong to none: be able for thine enemy ather in power, than use; and keep thy friend nder thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, ut never tax'd for speech.

TOO AMBITIOUS LOVE.

I am undone; there is no living, none, Bertram be away. It were all one, hat I should love a bright particular star, od think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 'The hind that would be mated by the lion, Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curts,

In our heart's fable;* heart, too capable
Of every line and trickt of his sweet favour:I
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics.

COWARDICE.

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

OURSELVES.
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,
Clo: k 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.

* Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which his
resemblance was pourtrayed.
+ Peculiarity of feature.

*Countenance. His is put for its.

ACT II. HONOUR DUE TO PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY, NOT TO

BIRTH 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 Is 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.

ACT III. 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? 0 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 lord! Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff, that do hold hint to it;

* Titles.

Good is good independent of any worldly distinction and so is vileness vile.

And, though I kill him not, I am the cauffy
His death was so effected: betier 'were
I met the ravin* lion when he roar'd
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere
That al 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 do't? 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; and no legacy is so rich as honesty.

ADVICE TO YOUNG WOMEN. Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, e are not the things they go under:t many a maid hath 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.

ACT IV.

CUSTOM OF SEDUCERS.
Ay, so you serve us,
Till we serve you: but when you have our rose *
You barely leave pur thorns to prick ourselves,
And mock us with our bareness.
* Ravenous.

They are not the things for which their names would make them pass.