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HIS REFLECTIONS ON THE EARTH,
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry!—Common mother, thou,
[Digging Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,* T'eems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd wormt With all the abborred births below crispi heaven Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine; Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor root! Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, Let it no more bring out ingrateful man! Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears: Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face Hath to the marbled mansion all above Never presented !-0, a root, Dear thanks! Dry up thy marrow, vines, and plough-torn leas; Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, And morsels unctuous, greases his pure wind, That from it all consideration slips!
HIS DISCOURSE WITH APEMANTUS.
* Boundless surface.
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. Apem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like
thysell; A madman so long, now a fool: What think’st That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moss'd
trees, That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, And skip when thou point'st out. Will the cold
brook, Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, To cure thy o’ernight's surfeit? call the creatures, Whose naked natures live in all the spite Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks, To the conflicting elements expos'd, Answer mere nature,-bid them flatter thee; Q! thou shalt find
Tim. Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender
With favour never clasp’d; but bred a dog.
world as my confectionary;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of
O, thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
[Looking on the Gold Twixt natural son and sire; Thou bright defiler of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! Thou ever young, fresh, lov’d, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow Chat lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, Chat solder'st close impossibilities, And mak’st them kiss! that speak’st with every
tongue, To every purpose; 0, thou touch*of hearts! Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy rirtue Set them into confounding odds, that beasts May have the world in empire! Why should you want? Behold the earth hath roots; Within this mile break forth a hundred springs: The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips; The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want?
* For touchstone.
TIMON TO THE THIEVES.
| Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries,
water, As bcasts, and birds, and fishes. Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and
ON HIS HONEST STEWARD.
+ Compost manure.
For many so arrive at second masters,
PROMISING AND PERFORMANCE,
Promising is the very air othe time: it eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying* is quite out of use To promise is most courtly and fashionable: perforin ance is a kind of will or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.
WRONG AND INSOLENCE.
Now breathless wrong
WILT thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Thanks, to men
INVITATION TO LOVE.
• The doing of that we said we would do.