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Lor. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this
bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica': Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st, But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims; Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.
Enter Musicians. Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress's ear, And draw her home with music.
[Music. Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive; For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear, perchance, a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of music: Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature: The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus : Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music,
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA at a distance.
Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended ; and, I think, The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season season'd are To their right praise, and true perfection! Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awaked!
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.
Act iii., sc. ii. Pandarus’ Orchard. Tro. Oh, that I thought it could be in a woman (As, if it can, I will presume in you) To feed for aye her lamps and flames of love; To keep her constancy in plight and youth, Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind That doth renew swifter than blood decays!
Or that persuasion could but thus convince me,
Cres. In that I'll war with you.
Oh virtuous fight,
Prophet may you be ! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, When time is old and hath forgot itself, When water-drops have worn the stones of Troy, And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, And mighty states characterless are grated To dusty nothing; yet let memory, From false to false, among false maids in love, Upbraid my falsehood! when they have said-as
false As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son; Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, As false as Cressid.
Act iv., sc. ii. Before the Cave. Re-enter ARVIRA
GUS, bearing Imogen, as dead, in his arms.
Look, here he comes,
The bird is dead,
Oh, sweetest, fairest lily!
Oh, melancholy !
Stark, as you see :
Ö’ the floor; His arms thus leagued : I thought he slept: and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness Answer'd my steps too loud. Gui.
Why, he but sleeps : If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, And worms will not come to thee. Arv.
With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll sweeten thy sad grave. Thou shalt not lack
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK, Act i., sc. iii. A Room in Polonius' House. Enter
LAERTES and OPHELIA. Laer. My necessaries are embark’d; farewell : And, sister, as the winds give benefit, And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you. Oph.
Do you doubt that?
Oph. No more but so?
Think it no more :