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Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;
But yet a union in partition,
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem:
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning, your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'Tis not maidenly:
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it;
Though I alone do feel the injury.

DAYBREAK.
Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and

there, Troop home to church-yards.

ACT IV.

DEW IN FLOWERS. And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes, Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail.

HUNTING.
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

Hip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding;* for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry. I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

* Sound.

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HOUNDS.

My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd,* so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-knee’d, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bullo, Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with norn.

ACT V.
THE POWER OF IMAGINATION.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact:t.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth' glance from heaven to earth, from earth to

heav'n;
And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation, and a name.

SIMPLICITY AND DUTY.

For never any thing can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it.

Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharg'd, And duty in his service perishing.

MODEST DUTY ALWAYS ACCEPTABLE.

Where I have come, great clerks have purposed To greet me with premeditated welcomes; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, Not paying me a welcome: Trust me, sweet.

* The flews are the large chaps of a hound. † Are made of mere imagination.

Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Or saucy and audacious eloquence.

TIME.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.

NIGHT. Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,

All with weary task fordone.* Now the wasted brands do glow,

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in wo,

In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one iets forth his sprite,

In the church-way paths to glide.

MUCH ADO ABOUT VOTHING.

ACT I.

PEACE INSPIRES LOVE. BUT now I am return'd, and that war-thought llave left their places vacant, in their rooms Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting me how sair young Hero is.

D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presentis, And tire the hearer with a book of words: Ir thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it; And I will break with her, and with her father, And thou shalt have her: Was't not to this end, That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? Claud. How sweetly do you minister to love,

* Overcome.

T'hat know love's grief by his complexion !
But lest my liking

might too sudden seem, I would have salvid it with a longer treatise. D. Pedro. What need the bridge much broader

than the flood? The fairest grant is the necessity: Look, what will serve, is fit: 'tis once,* thou lov'st; And I will fit thee with the remedy. I know we shall have revelling to-night; I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell fair Hero I am Claudio; And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart.

ACT II.

FRIENDSHIP IN LOVE. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and afïairs of love: Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.t

MERIT ALWAYS MODEST.

It is the witness still of excellency, 'To put a strange face on his own perfection.

BENEDICT THE EACHELOR'S RECANTATION, This can be no trick: The conference was sadly borne. 1-They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections have their full bent. Love me! why it must be re. quited. I hear how I am censured: they say, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too, that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry:-I must not seem proud:-Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness: and virtuous;—tis sn, I * Once for all.

+ Passion. Seriously carried on.

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cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me:-By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;-nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage:-But doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age: Shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? No: the world must be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.. Here comes Beatrice: by this day, she's a fair lady I do spy some marks of love in her.

ACT III.

FAVOURITES COMPARED TO HONEYSUCKLES Bid her steal into the pleached bower, Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter;-like favourites, Made proud by princes, that advance their pride, Against that power that bred it.

A SCORNFUL AND SATIRICAL BEAUTY. Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, Misprisingwhat they look on; and her wit Values itself so highly, that to her All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endeared. I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featurd, But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced, She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister: If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed: If low, an agate very vilely cut: If speaking, why, a vane blown with all ind: If silent, why a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out;

* Undervaluing

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