A thousand, thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O where

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave,
To weep there.

Concealed Love.

Duke. There is no woman's sides
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart: no woman's

heart

So big, to hold so much; they lack retention.
Alas! their love may be call'd appetite-
No motion of the liver, but the palate.-
That suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt:
But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much: make no compare
Between that love a woman can bear me,
And that I owe Olivia.

Vio. Ay, but I know

Duke. What dost thou know? [may owe;
Vio. Too well what love women to men
In faith, they are as true of heart as we.
My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship

Duke. And what's her lustory?

[love,

Vio. A blank, my lord: she never told her
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in
thought;

And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.

Is turn'd to folly; blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime,
And all the fair effects of future hopes.

Pro. He after honor hunts, I after love:
He leaves his friends, to dignify them more:
I leave myself, my friends, and all for love.
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me :
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,
War with good counsel, set the world at
nought;
[thought.
Made wit with musing weak, heart-sick with

The Advantages of Travel.

Pant. He wonder'd that your lordship
Would suffer him to spend his youth at home,
While other men, of slender reputation,
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
Some to the wars, to try their fortune there ;
Some, to discover islands far away:
Some, to the studious universities.
For any, or for all these exercises,
He said, that Protheus, your son, was meet;
And did request me to importune you,
To let him spend his time no more at home,
Which would be great impeachment to his age
In having known no travel in his youth.

Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me
to that

Whereon this month I have been hammering,
I have considered well his loss of time;
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being tried and tutor❜d in the world:
Experience is by industry achiev'd,

§ 13. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VE- And perfected by the swift course of time.

RONA. SHAKSPEARE.

The Advantages of Travel, &c.
Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Pro-

theus ;

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits:
Wer 't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honor'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness;
But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive
therein,

Even as I would, when I to love begin. [adieu!

Pro. Wilt thou begone? Sweet Valentine,
Think on thy Protheus, when thou haply seest
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel:
Wish me partaker in thy happiness,
When thou dost meet good-hap; and, in thy
If ever danger do environ thee, [danger,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine.

Love compared to an April Day.

O, how this spring of love resembleth
Th' uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun
And by and by a cloud takes all away!

An accomplished young Gentleman.
His years but young, but his experience old
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe;
And, in a word (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow)
He is complete in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Contempt of Love punished.

I have done penance for contemning love:
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, [me
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled
eyes,
[sorrow.
And made them watchers of my own heart's
O gentle Protheus, love 's a mighty lord;
And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,
There is no woe to his correction,
Nor to his service, no such joy on earth!
Now no discourse, except it be of love;
[bud Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and slcep
Upon the very naked name of love.

Love commended and dispraised.
Pro. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest
The eating canker dwells, so eating love [bud
Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

Val. And writers say, as the most forward
Is eaten by the canker, ere it blow,
Even so by love the young and tender wit

Pro. I will not flatter her.

[praises. Val. O flatter me; for love delights in Lover's Wealth.

Not for the world: why, man, she is mine And I as rich in having such a jewel, [own: As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

[behind,

Youthful Friendship and Innocence.
WE were, fair queen,
Two lads that thought there was no more
But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
And to be boy eternal.

[sun, We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' th' And bleat the one at th' other; what we chang'd,

Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing; 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

Heaven

Boldly-"Not guilty;" the imposition clear'd,
Hereditary ours.

Nature.

How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Its tenderness: and make itself a pastime
To harder bosoms!

A Father's Fondness 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.
Faithful Service.

Cam. In your affairs, my lord,
If ever I were wilful negligent,
It was my folly if industriously
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence,
Not weighing well the end if ever fearful
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Whereof the execution did cry out
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft infects the wisest; these, my lord,
Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty
Is never free of.

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
Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more
swift?

eyes

Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all
[only
Blind with the pin and web, but theirs, theirs
That would. unseen, be wicked? Is this no-
[nothing;
thing?
Why, then the world, and all that 's in 't, is
Thy covering sky is nothing; Bohemia no-
thing;
[nothings,

My wife is nothing: nor nothing have these
If this be nothing.

The Silence of Innocence eloquent.
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.

Affectionate Child.

To see his nobleness!
Conceiving the dishonor of his mother,
He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply:
Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on 't in himself!
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,
And downright languish'd.

Child resembling his Father.
Behold, my lords,
Although the print be little, the whole matter
And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip,
The trick of his frown, his forehead: nay the
valley,
[smiles;
The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his
The very mould and frame of hand, nail,
finger :
[made it
And thou, good goddess nature, which hast
So like to him that got it, if thou hast
The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all
colors

No yellow in 't; lest she suspect, as he does,

Her children not her husband's!

Hermione pleading her Innocence.
If pow'rs divine
Behold our human actions (as they do),
I doubt not then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know
(Who will seem least to do so) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devis'd,
And play'd to take spectators; for behold
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe [me,-
A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,-here stand-
ing,

To prate and talk of life, and honor, 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I
prize it
[honor,
As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for
"Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I stand for. I appeal
To your own conscience, Sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot
beyond

The bound of honor: or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin
Cry, fie, upon my grave!

A Wife's Loss of all Things dear, and Con-
tempt of Death.

1

Leo. Look for no less than death.

Her. Sir, spare your threats;

An Infant exposed.
Poor wretch,

That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos'd To loss, and what may follow! Weep I cannót,

my

But heart bleeds and most accurs'd am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell!
The day frowns more and more; thou art like
to have

The bug, which you would fright me with, IA lullaby too rough: I never saw

seek.

To me can life be no commodity;

The crown and comfort of my life, your favor,
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
But know not how it went. My second joy,
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
I am barr'd like one infectious: my third
comfort,

Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murther: Myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
To women of all fashion: lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i' the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,
Tell me what blessings I have here alive,
That I should fear to die; therefore proceed.
But yet hear this, mistake me not,-no; life,
I prize it not a straw: but for mine honor,
(Which I would free) if I shall be condemn'd,
Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake; I tell you,
"Tis rigor, and not law.

An Account of a Ghost's appearing in

Dream.

a

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,
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
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita

The heavens so dim by day.

Mistress of the Sheep-shearing.

Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife liv'd, upon

This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook ; Both dame, and servant; welcom'd all; serv'd [here,

all:

At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle;
Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now
On his shoulder, and his : her face o' fire [it,
With labor; and the thing she took to quench
She would to each one sip: you are retir'd,
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting. Pray you, bid
These unknown friends to us welcome, for it is
Come quench your blushes and present your
A way to make us better friends, more known.

self

[on,

And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come
As your good flock shall prosper.

A Garland for old Men.
Per. Reverend Sirs,

For you there's rosemary, and rue: these keep
Seeming, and savor, all the winter long ;
Grace, and remembrance, be unto you both,
And welcome to our shearing!

Per. Shepherdess,

(A fair one are you) well you fit our ages With flowers of winter.

Nature and Art.

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient-
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter; the fairest flowers o' the

season

Are our carnations, and streak'd gilly-flow'rs,
Which some call nature's bastards: of that

kind

I pr'ythee call it for this ungentle business,There is an art, which, in their piedness,
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.

VOL. VI. Nos. 83 & 84.

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
A gentle cyon to the wildest stock; [marry
And make conceive a bark of baser kind

D

[flowers,

True Love.

They call him Doricles; and he boasts himTo have a worthy feeding: but I have it [self Upon his own report, and I believe it;

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly- He looks like sooth: he says he loves my And do not call them bastards.

I'll not put

A Garland for a middle aged Man.
Per.
The dibble in earth, to set one slip of them;
No more than were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say, 'twere well; and only
Desire to breed by me.-
[therefore

Here's flowers for you;

Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ;
The marygold that goes to bed with the sun,
And with him rises, weeping; these are flowers
Of middle summer; and, I think, they are
To men of middle age.
[given

A Garland for Young Men.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I
And only live by gazing.

Per. Out, alas!

of your
[flock,

You'd be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fairest friend,

daughter;

I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon
Upon the water, as he 'll stand, and read,
As 't were my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think, there is not half a kiss to choose,
Who loves another best.

Presents little regarded by real Lovers.
Pol.
How now, fair shepherd ?
Your heart is full of something that does take
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was
young,

And handed love as you do, I was wont
To load my she with knacks: I would have
ransack'd

The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance: you have let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your lass
Interpretation should abuse, and call this
Your lack of love, or bounty, you were straited
For a reply, at least, if you make care
Of happy holding her.

Flo. Old Sir, I know

She prizes not such trifles as those are :
The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and
lock'd

Before this ancient Sir, who, it should seem, Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand; this hand

I would I had some flowers o' the spring, that
might
[yours;
Become your time of day; and yours, and
That wear upon your virgin-branches yet
Your maiden-heads growing :-O, Proserpina, Up in my heart; which I have given already,
For the flow'rs now, that, frighted, thou lett'st But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my
From Dis's waggon! daffodils
[fall
love,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty, violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet
To strew him o'er and o'er.
[friend,

Fol. What like a corse?

Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and
play on;

Not like a corse: or if-not to be buried,
But quick and in mine arms.

A Lover's Commendation.
What you do,

[sweet,

Still betters what is done. When you speak
I'd have you do it ever when you sing,
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
Pray so; and, for the ord'ring your affairs,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I
wish you

A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,
And own no other function: each your doing,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you're doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

As soft as dove's down, and as white as it,
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,
That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er.

Tender Affection.

Were I crown'd the most imperial monarch,
Thereof most worthy; were I the fairest youth
That ever made eye swerve; had force, and
knowledge
[them,
More than was ever man's-I would not prize
Without her love for her, employ them all;
Commend them, and condemn them to her
Or to their own perdition.
[service,

A Father the best Guest at his Son's Nuptials.
Methinks, a father
Is, at the nuptials of his son, a guest [more;
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once
Is not your father grown incapable
Of reasonable affairs? Is he not stupid
With age, and altering rheums? Can he
speak? hear?

Know man from man? dispute his own estate?
Lies he not bed-rid ? and again does nothing,
But what he did, being childish?

Flo. No, good Sir!

He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,
Than most have of his age.