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0, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd,", When women cannot love where they're belov'd.

INFIDELITY IN A FRIEND.

Who should be trusted now, when one's right

hand
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus,
I am sorry, I must never trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake.
The private wound is deepest.

REPENTANCE.

Who by repentance is not satisfied, Is nor of heaven, nor earth.

INCONSTANCY IN MAN.
O heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect: that one error
Fills him with faults.

WINTER'S TALE.

ACT I.

YOUTHFUL INNOCENCE.

WE were, fair queen, Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i’ the sun And bleat the one at the other: what we chang'd, Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd That

any did: Had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should have answer'd hea. Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition cleared, Hereditary ourst

* Felt, experienced. † Setting aside original sm.

ven

FONDYESS OF A FATHER FOR HIS CHILD.
Leon. Are you so fond of your young prince as we
Do seem to be of ours?
Pol.

If at home, sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy:
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
He makes a July's day short as December;
And, with his varying childness cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.

JEALOUSY.

Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible or breaking honesty:) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners?' wishing clocks more swist? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes blind With the pin and web,* but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, Irihis be nothing

REGICIDES DETESTABLE.

To do this deed, Promotion follows: If I could find example or thousands that had struck anointed kings, And flourish'd after, I'd not do't: but since Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, Let villany itself forswear't.

ACT II.

KNOWLEDGE SOMETIMES HURTFUL.
There may be in the cup
A spidert steep'd, and one may drink: depart,

* Disorders of the eye.
† Spiders were esteemed poisonous in our author's time

And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhor'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
With violent hefts. *

ELOQUENCE OF SILENT INNOCENCE.
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.

EXPOSING AN INFANT.

Come on, poor babe; Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, To be thy nurses! Wolves, and bears, they say, Casting their savageness aside, have done Like offices of pity.

ACT III.

INNOCENCE.
Innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience.

DESPAIR OF PARDON.
But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods
To look that way thou wert.

DESCRIPTION OF A GHOST APPEARING IN A DREAM

I have heard (but not believ'd) the spirits of the

dead
May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream
So like a waking To me comes a creature,

Heavings.

Sometimes her head on one side, some another.
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow,
So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes,
Like very sanctity, she did approach
My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me.
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon
Did this break from her: Good Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
Places remote enough are in Bohemia,
There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe
Is counted lost

for ever, Perdita,
I pr’ythee, call’t; for this urgentle business,
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more:-and so, with shrieks,
She melted into air. Affrighted much,
I did in time collect myself; and thought
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys.
Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously,
I will be squar'd by this.

THE INFANT EXPOSED.

Poor wretch, That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd To loss, and what may follow !--Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am 1, To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell! I he day frowns more and more; thou art like .o

have A lullaby too rough.

A CLOWN'S DESCRIPTION OF A WRECK. I would, you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the point: 0, the most pitious cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast; and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service,To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was An

tigonus, a nobleman;-But to make an end of the ship:-to see how the sea flap-dragoned* it:-but first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea, or weather.

ACT IV.
A GARLAND FOR OLD MEN,
Reverend sirs,
For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep
Seeming, and savour,f all the winter long;
Grace, and remembrance, be to you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

NATURE AND ART.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient,
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Oftrembling winter,-the fairest flowers o'the season
Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers,
Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind
Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not
To get slips of them.
Pol.

Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them?
Per.

Forf I have heard it said,
There is an art, which, in their pieduess, shares
With creating nature.
Pol.

Say, there be;
Yet nature is made better by no mean,
But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art,
Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry
A gentler scion to the wildest stock;
And make conceive a bark of baser kind
By bud of nobler race; This is an art
Which does mend nature,-change it rather: but
T'he art itself is nature.

A GARLAND FOR MIDDLE-AGED MEN. I'll not put

Swallowed + Likeness and smell. Because that.

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