O, if I could, what grief should I forget!— A MOTHER'S GRIEF FOR THE LOSS OF A SON. Father cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, There was not such a gracioust creature born, Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. DESPONDENCY. There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. STRENGTH OF DEPARTING DISEASES. Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave, On their departure most of all show evil. DANGER TAKES HOLD OF ANY SUPPORT. He, that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. ACT IV. ARTHUR'S PATHETIC SPEECHES TO HUBERT. Methinks, no body should be sad but I: Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) And with my hand at midnight held your head, Saying, What lack you? and, where lies your grief? If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, # Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Thrust but these men away, I'll forgive you, Is there no remedy? Hub. None, but to lose your eyes Arth. O heaven!-that there were but a moat in yours, A grain, a dust, a grat, a wand'ring hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. PERFECTION ADMITS OF NO ADDITON. To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To smooth the ice, or add another hue To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,” * In this, the antique and well noted-face, Of plain old form is much disfigured: And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, THE COUNTENANCE OF A MURDERER. This is the man should do the bloody deed; The image of a wicked henious fault Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast, A STRUGGLING CONSCIENCE. The colour of the king doth come and go, Between his purpose and his conscience, *Decorate. Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set. NEWS BEARERS. Old men, and beldams, in the streets Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths: And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist; Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. THE EVIL PURPOSES OF KINGS TOO SERVILELY EXECUTED. It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life: And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns More upon humour than advis'd respect.* A VILLAIN'S LOOK, AND READY ZEAL. How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by. A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, Quoted,† and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into my mind. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause, When I spake darkly what I purposed; Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, *Deliberate consideration. † Observed As bid me tell my tale in express words; Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me, HYPOCRISY. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, DESPAIR. If thou didst but consent To this most cruel act, do but despair, And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be A beam to hang thee on; or would'st thou drown thyself, Put but a little water in a spoon, ACT V. A MAN IN TEARS. Let me wipe off this honourable dew, That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks; My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Being an ordinary inundation: But this effusion of such manly drops, This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, * Moisture. |