To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
Only good master, while we do admire
This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Let's be no stoics, nor no stocks, I pray ;
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks,
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd:
Talk logic with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetoric in your common talk:
Music and poesy use to quicken you :
The mathematics, and the metaphysics, [you:
Fall to them as you find your stomach serves
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en !-
In brief, Sir, study what you most affect.

Travel

Such wind as scatters young men thro' the world,

To seek their fortunes farther than at home, Where small experience grows.

Woman's Tongue.

Think you a little din can daunt my ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds,

Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat ? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field? And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle, heard [clang? Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to th' ear As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire?

"

Description of a mad Wedding.

When the priest

Did ask if Katharine should be his wife; [loud, Ay, by gogs-woons," quoth he, and swore so That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book; And, as he stoop'd again to take it up, This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff [and priest; That down fell priest and book, and book "Now take them up," quoth he, "if: any list." Tran. What said the wench when he rose up again? [stamp'd and swore, Grem. Trembled and shook: for why, he As if the vicar meant to cozen him. But, after many ceremonies done, He calls for wine:

[aboard,

"A health," quoth he, as if he had been Carousing to his mates after a storm : Quaff'd off the muscadel, and threw the sops All in the sexton's face; having no other reason,

But that his beard grew thin and hungerly, And seem'd to ask his sops as he was drinking. This done, he took the bride about the neck, And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack,

That, at the parting, all the church did echo.

Petruchio's Trial of his Wife in the Article of Dress.

Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer.
A velvet dish!-fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnut-shell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap;
Away with it come, let me have a bigger.
Kath. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the
time,

And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.
Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have
And not till then.
[one too,
Hor. That will not be in haste. [speak;
Kath. Why, Sir, I trust, I may have leave to
And speak I will; I am no child, no babe;
Your betters have endur'd me say my mind;
And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart;
Or else, my heart, concealing it, will break.
And, rather than it shall, I will be free,
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

Pet. Why thou say'st true: it is a paltry A custard coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: [cap, I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.

Kath. Love me or love me not, I like the And it I will have, or I will have none. [cap; Pet. Thy gown? why, ay, come, tailor,

let us see 't.

O, mercy, God! what masking stuff is here! What 's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-can

non:

What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart? Here 's snip and nip, and cut, and slish, and Like to a censer in a barber's shop:. [slash, Why, what, o'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? [nor gown.

Hor. I see, she 's like to have neither cap According to the fashion and the time. Tail. You bid me make it orderly and well,

I

[ber'd,

did not bid you mar it to the time. Pet. Marry, and did; but if you be rememGo hop me over every kennel home, For you shall hop without my custom, Sir: I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it.

Kath. Inever saw a better fashioned gown, More quaint, more pleasing, more commendable:

Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me.

The Mind alone valuable.

Pet. Well, come my Kate; we will unto
your father's,

Even in these honest mean habiliments;
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich:
And as the sun breaks thro' the darkest clouds,
So honor peereth in the meanest habit.
What, is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture and mean array.

A lovely Woman.

Fair, lovely maiden, young and affable, More clear of hue, and far more beautiful Than precious sardonyx, or purple rocks Of amethysts, or glistering hyacinth :

Sweet Katharine, this lovely womanKath. Fair, lovely lady, bright and crystalline,

Beauteous and stately as the eye-train'd bird,
As glorious as the morning wash'd with dew,
Within whose eyes she takes her dawning]
beams,

And golden summer sleeps upon thy cheeks;
Wrap up thy radiations in some cloud,
Lest that thy beauty make this stately town
Unhabitable as the burning zone,
With sweet reflections of thy lovely face.

The Wife's Duty to her Husband. Fie! fie! unknit that threat'ning, unkind brow,

And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor;
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair
And in no sense is meet or amiable. [buds,
A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty,
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for
thee,

And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labor both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, secure and
safe,

Then veil your stomachs, for it is no boot; And place your hands beneath your husband's In token of which duty, if he please, [foot: My hand is ready-may it do him ease!

§ 11. THE TEMPEST SHAKSPEARE Miranda and Prospero

Mir. OI have suffer'd
With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in
her,

Dash'd all to pieces. O the cry did knock
Against my very heart! Poor souls! they pe-
Had I been any god of power, I would [rish'd.
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and
The freighting souls within her.

Pros. Wipe thou thine eyes, have comfort; The direful spectacle of the wreck which touch'd

The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely order'd, that there is no soul-
No, not so much perdition as an hair,
Betid to any creature in the vessel [sink.
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st
Caliban's Curses.

As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen,

Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er !

I must eat my dinner.

This island 's mine, by Sycorax my mother, When thou Which thou tak'st from me. camest first, [wouldst give me Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me: Water with berries in 't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee,

And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile ;

smooth,

Curs'd be I, that I did so! all the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Who first was mine own king: and here you
sty me

Music.

Where should this music be? in air or

earth?

It sounds no more and sure it waits upon Some god of th' island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air.

Ariel's Song.

Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made,

Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ign'rant fumes, that mantle Their clearer reason

Their understanding Begins to swell; and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores, That now lie foul and muddy.

Ariel's Song.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie :
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After sunset merrily:

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

§ 12. TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU

WILL. SHAKSPEARE.

Music and Love.

Ir music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again ;-it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear, like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour-Enough; no
more;

"Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute! So full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high fantastical.

Description of Sebastian's Escape.

I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself [practice) (Courage and hope both teaching him the To a strong mast, that liv'd upon the sea; Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves, So long as I could see.

Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,
If you will lead these graces to the grave,
And leave the world no copy.

Character of a noble Gentleman.

Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; In voices well divulg'd, free, learn'd, and valiant,

And, in dimension, and the shape of nature,
A gracious person; but yet I cannot love him;
He might have took his answer long ago.

Oliv.

Resolved Love.

Why, what would you? Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house: Write royal cantos of contemned love, And sing them loud even in the dead of night, Holla your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me.

Serious Music most agreeable to Lovers.

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night: Methought it did relieve my passion much; More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.

True Love.

Duke. Come hither, boy, if ever thou shalt In the sweet pangs of it remember me : [love, For such as I am, all true lovers are: Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save in the constant image of the creature That is belov'd.-How dost thou like this tune?

Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where love is thron'd.

Character of an old Song.

Worth.

with bones,

Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love Like the old age.