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§ 14. THE WINTER'S TALE. My wife is nothing: nor nothing have these SHAKS PEARE. If this be nothing.
nothings, Youthful Friendship and Innocence..
King-killing detestable. WE were, fair queen,
-To do this deed Two lads that thought there was no more Promotion follows: if I could find example But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
Of thousands that had struck anointed kings, And to be boy eternal.
(sun, | And Aourisb'd after, I'd not do't; but since We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i'th' Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not And bleat the one at th'other; what we chang'd, I
one, Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The Effects of Jealousy. The doctrine of ill-doing; nor dream'd,
This Jealousy That any did : bad we pursued that life,
Is for a precious creature ! as she's rare, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd, Must it be great ; and, as his person's mighty, With stronger blood we should have answer'd
Must it be violent: and as he does conceive Heaven
He is dishonor'd by a man, which ever
In that be made more bitter.
Knowledge sometimes hurtful.
There may be in the cup tongueless,
| A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no repom); for his knowSlaughters a thousand, waiting upon that:
Is not infected : but if one present fledge Our praises are our wages : you may ride us
Th'abborr'd ingredient to his eye, make known With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs, ere
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his With spur we heat an acre.
With violent hests.
Calumny. How sometimes nature will betray its folly,
Praise her but for this her without-door Its tenderness: and make itself a pastiine To harder bosoms!
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech) A Father's Fondness for his Child.
[brands, Leon. Are you so fond of your young prince The shrug, the him, or ha; these pretty Do seem to be of ours?
(as we | That calumny doth use :-0! I am out, Pol. If at home, Sir,
That mercy does : for calumny will fear He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter : | Virtue itself-these shrugs, these hums, and Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
[tween, My parasite, my soldier, statesinan, all: When you have said, she's goodly, come beHe makes a July's day short as December:
Ere you can say she's honest. And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Fortitude and Innocence.
Iler. Do not weep, good fools ;
There is no cause : when you shall know your Cam. In your affairs, my lord,
. inistress If ever I were wilful negligent,
Has deserved prison, then abound in tears, It was iny folly: if industriously
As I come out: this action, I now go on, I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Is for my better grace. Not weighing well the end : if ever fearful
Honesty and Honor. To do a thing, where I the issue doubted,
Here's a do, Whereof the execution did cry out
To lock up honesty and honor from Against the pon-performance, 'twas a fear The access of gentle visitors. Which oft infects the wisest; these, my lord,
1 The Silence of Innocence eloquent. Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.
To see his nobleness ! Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Conceiving the dishonor of his mother, Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
He straight declin'd, droop'd, took it deeply: Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot ?
Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself! Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,
| And downright languish d. swift ? Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight? and all eyes
Child resembling his Father. Blind with the pin and web, but theirs, theirs
Behold, my lords, only
[thing? | Although the print be little, the whole inatter That would, unseen, be wicked? Is this no- | And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is The trick of his frown, bis forehead: nay the nothing;
[smiles; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his
The very mould and frame of hand, vail, finger: That I should fear to die; therefore proceed. And thou, good goddess nature, which hast But yet hear this, mistake me not,-no; life, made it
I prize it not a straw: but for mine honor, So like to him that got it, if thou hast
(Which I would free) if I shall be condemn'd, The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all | Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else,
But what your jealousies awake; I tell you,
Despair of Pardon.
But, O thou tyrant!
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier Come on, poor babe: [vens Than all thy woes can stir: therefore betake Some pow'rful spirit instruct the kites and ra
thee To be thy nurses ! Wolves and bears, they say, | To nothing but despair. A thousand knees, Casting their savageness aside, have done Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, Like offices of pity.
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter, Hermione pleading her innocence. Io storm perpetual, could not move the gods
If pow'rs divine To look that way thou wert. Behold our human actions (as they do), An Account of a Ghost's appearing in a Dream. I doubt not then, but innocence shall make
I have heard (but not believ'd), the spirits False accusation blush, and tyranny
of the dead Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know | May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother (Who will seem least to do so) my past life
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
So like a waking. To me comes a creature, As I am now unhappy; which is more
Sometimes her head on one side, some another; Than history can pattern, though devis'd,
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, And play d to take spectators; for behold me, - So fill'd, and so becoming: in pure white robes A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
Like very sanctity, she did approach A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, | My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me, The mother to a hopeful prince;-here standing,
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes To prale and talk of life, and honor, 'fore
| Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon Who please to come and hear. For life, I Did this break from her: “Good Antigonus, prize it
Lhonor, Since fate, against thy better disposition, As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for Hath made thy person for the thrower out 'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
| Of my poor babe, according to thine oath; And only that I stand for. I appeal
Places remote enough are in Bohemia, To your own conscience, Sir, before Polixenes | There weep, and leave it crying: and, for the Came to your court, how I was in your grace,
babe How merited to be so; since he came,
Is counted lost for ever, Perdita With what encounter so uncurrent I
I pr’ythee call it: for this ungentle business, Have strain'd, to appear thus: if one jot beyond
Put on thee by iny lord, thou ne'er shalt see The bound of honor; or, in act, or will,
Thy wife Paulina more." And so with shrieks, That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
She melted into air. Affrighted much, Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin | I did in time collect myself, and thought Cry, fie, upon my grave!
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys : A Wife's Loss of all Things dear, and Contempt | Yet, for this once, yea superstitiously, of Death.
I will be squard by this. Leo. Look for no less than death.
An Infant exposed. Her. Sir, spare your threats ;
----Poor wretch, The bug, which you would fright me with. 1 | That, for thy mother's fault, art thus expos d
To loss, and what may follow! Weep I cannot, seek. To me can life be no commodity;
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am I, The crown and comfort of my life, your favor,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this.-Farewell! I do give lost; for I do feel it gone,
The day frowns more and more; thou art like But know not how it went. My second joy,
to have And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
ce A lullaby too rough: I never saw I am barr'd like one infectious: my third
| The heavens so dim by day. comfort,
Deities transformed for Love. Starr'd most unluokily, is from my breast,
The gods themselves, The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, Humbling their deities to love, have taken Haled out to murther: Myself on every post The shapes of beasts upon them. Jupiter Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred, Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green NepThe child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
tune To women of all fashion: lastly, hurried A ram, and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god, Here to this place, i' the open air, before Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, As I seem now: their transformations Tell me what blessings I have here alive, Were never for a piece of beauty rarer;
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires This youth should say, 'twere well; and only Run not before mine honor; nor my lusts
Desire to breed by me.
[therefore Burn hotter than my faith.
Here's flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoran ; Shep. Fie, daughter! when my old wife | The marygold that goes to bed with the sun, liv'd, upon
| And with him rises, weeping; these are flowers This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook; 1 Of middle summer; and, I think, they are given Both dame, and servant; welcom'd all; serv'd | To men of middle age. all:
[here, . A Garland for Young Men. Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now
Cam. I should leare grazing, were 1 of your At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; And only live by gazing.
[Aock, On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire
Per. Out, alas! With labor; and the thing she took to quench | You'd be so lean. that blasts of January it,
Would blow you through and through. Now, She would to each one sip: you are retir'd,
my fairest friend, As if you were a feasted one, and not
I would I had soine Powers o'the spring, that The hostess of the meeting. Pray you, bid
yours; These unknown friends to us welcome, for it is
Become your time of day; and yours, and A way to make us better friends, more known. That wear upon your virgin-branches vet Come quench your blushes and present your / Your maiden-heads growidg:-0. Proserpina, self
[on, | For the Aow'rs now, that, frighted, thou lett'st That which you are, mistress o’the feast: come
From Dis's waggon ! daffodils
sfall And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing,
That come before the swallow dares, and take As your good flock shall prosper.
The winds of March with beauty, violets, dim, A Garland for old Men.
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Per. Reverend Sirs,
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, For you there's rosemary, and rue: these keep That die unmarried, ere they can behokl Seeming, and savor, all ihe winter long; Bright Phæbus in his strength, a malady Grace, and remembrance, be unto you both, Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips, and And welcome to our shearing !
The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds, Per. Shepherdess,
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, ( A fair one are you) well you fit our ages To make you garlands of; and, my sweet With flowers of winter.
To strew him o'er and o'er.
[friend, Nature and Art.
Fol. What like a corse? Per. Sir, the year growing ancient
Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
play on; Of trembling winter; the fairest Aowers o' the Not like a corse: or if-not to be buried, season
But quick and in mine arms. Are our carnations, and streak d gilly-Aow'rs, I
A Lover's Commendation. Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind
What you do,
. (sweet, Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not
Still betters what is done. When you speak, To get slips of them.
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; Do you neglect them?
Pray so; and, for the ord'ring your affairs, Per. For I have heard it said,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares you With great creating nature.
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Pol. Say, there be ;
Nothing but that; move still, still so, Yet nature is made better by no mean,
And own no other function: each your doing, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, So singular in each particular, Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art Crowns what you're doing in the present deeds, That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we | That all your acts are queens. marry
Honest Woving. A gentle cyon to the wildest stock;
| Per. O Doricles, And make conceive a bark of baser kind
| Your praises are too large : but that your youth, By bud of nobler race: This is an art
And the true blood which peeps so fairly Which does mend nature-change it rather:
through it, The art itself is nature.
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd; Per. So it is.
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
A Garland for a middle aged Man. As little skill to fear, as I have purpose
| To put you to't. But, come; our dance, I pray: The dibble in earth, to set one slip of them; | Your hand, my Perdita : so turtles pair, No more than, were I painted, I would wish | That never mean to part.
| But fair posterity) should hold some counsel They call him Doricles; and he boasts him- In such a business. To have a worthy feeding: but I have it (sell
Rural Simplicity. Upon his own report, and I believe it ;
I was not much afeard : for once or twice, He looks like sooth: he says he loves my I was about to speak : and tell him plainly, daughter;
The self-same sun that shines upon his court I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon | Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, Looks on all alike : Ast were my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain,
Selfish old Man. I think, there is not half a kiss to choose,
0, Sir, Who loves another best.
You have undone a man of fourscore-three, Presents little regarded by real Lovers.
That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea, Pol. How now, fair shepherd ?
| To die upon the bed my father died, Your heart is full of something that does take
To lie close by his honest bones; but now Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was
| Some hangman must put on my shroud, and
Where no priest shovels in dust. [lay ine young, And handed love as you do, I was wont Prosperity the Bond, 4tfiction the Looser, of To load my she with knacks: I would have
Prosperity's the very bond of love, [ther The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour'd it Whose fresh complexion and whose heart ioge. To her acceptance: you have let him go, Affliction alters. And nothing marted with him. If your lass
Self-Conceit. Interpretation should abuse, and call this Ant. How blest are we that are not simplemen! Your lack of lore, or bounty, you were straited | Yet nature inight have made me as these are ; For a reply, at least, if you make care
Therefore I will not disdain. Of happy holding her.
Self-Reproach, und too severe Reproof. Flo. Old Sir, I know
Cle. At the last,
[evils ; She prizes not such trifles as those are:
Do, as the heavens have done ; forget your. The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and With them forgive yourself. lock'd
Leo. Whilst I remember Cp in my heart; which I have given already, | Her and her virtues. I cannot forget But not deliverd. (), hear me breathe my love, My blemishes in them ; and so still think of Before this ancient Sir, who, it should seem, Hath sometime lov d: I take thy hand; this
The wrong I did myself; which was so much,
That heirless it hath made my kingdom ; and band
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er man As soft as dore's down, and as white as it,
Bred his hopes out of. Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,
Pau. True, too true, my lord;
If, one by one, you wedded all the world,
Or, from the all that are, took something good,
[them, She I kill'd! I did so: but thou strik'st me More than was ever man's- I would not prize Sorely, to say I did, it is as bitter Without her love: for her, employ them all ; | Upon thy tongue, as in my thought: now, Commend them, and condeinn them to her Say so but seldom.
(good now, Or to their own perdition.
[service, Cle. Not at all, good lady: A Father the best Guest at his Son's Nuptials. You might have spoken a thousand things, that Methinks, a father
would Ls, at the nuptials of his son, a guest [more;
Have done the time more benefit, and graced That best becomes the table. Pray you, once
Your kindness better. L not your father grown incapable
Love more rich for what it gives. Of reasonable affairs ? Is he not stupid
Leo. I might have look'd upon my queen's With age, and altering rheums? Can he speak?
full eye; hear?
Have taken ireasure from her lips
Pau. And left them
A captivating Woman.
This is a creature, Bebas bis health, and ampler strength, indeed. | Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal Than most have of his age.
| Of all professors else; make proselytes Pol. By my white beard
Of who she but bid follow. You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Anguish of Recollection for a lost Friend. Something unfilial : reason, my son,
Prythee no more; cease; thou know'st, Sboald choose himself a wife; but as good rea- He dies to me again, when talk'd of: sure, The father (all whose joy is nothing else (son, When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches
Will bring me to consider that, which may Have pow'r to utter. O, then we bring forth Unfurnish me of reason.
stold us, Effects of Beauty.
When our quick winds lie still, and our ills The blessed gods,
Is as our earing: Purge all infection from our air, whilst you
Things lost valued.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it: What was he, that did make it? See, my lord, What our contempts do often hurl from us, Would you not deem it breath'd ? and that We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, those veins
| By revolution lowering, does become Did verily bear blood ?
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone; Masterly done:
The hand could pluck her back, that shor'd The very life seems warm upon her lip.
her on. The fixture of her eye has motion in't,
The Mutability of the People. As we were mock'd with art.
Our slippery people - Still, methinks, [chisel (Whose love is never link'd to the deserver, There is an air comes from her: What fine Till bis deserts are past) begin to throw Could ever get cuit breath ?-Let no man mock Pompey the Great, and all his dignities, For I will kiss her.
[nie, Upon his son; who, high in name and pow'r, Affliction to a penitent Mind pleasing. Higher than both in blood and life, stands up Pau. I am sorry, Sir, I have thus far stirr'd
Siirra For the main soldier. But I could afflict you further.
Cleopatra's contemptuous Raillery. Leo. Do, Paulina;
Nay, pray you, seek no color for your going, For this affliction has a taste as sweet
But bid farewell, and go: when you sued As any cordial comfort.
staying, Fidow compared to a Turtle.
Then was the time for words: no going thenI an old turtle,
[there | Eternity was in our lips and eyes ; [poor, Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and | Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so My rate, that's never to be found again, But was a race of heaven : they are so still, Lament till I am lost.
Or thou, the greatest soldier in the world, | Art turn'd the greatest liar.
Cleopatra's anxious Tenderness. $ 15. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
SHAKSPEARE. Cleo. Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I must pari-but that's not it: His captain's heart,
Sir, you and I have lov'd—but there's not it ;Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst That you know well: something it is I wouldThe buckles in his breast, reneges all temper; o, my oblivion is a very Antony, And is become the bellows, and the fan, And I am all-forgotten. To cool a gipsy's lust. Love, the Nobleness of Life.
Cleopatra's Wishes for Antony on Parting.
Your honor calls you hence; Let Rome in Tiber melt! and the wide arch Therefore be deaf to my unpity'd folly, Of the rang'd empire fall! here is my space;
And all the gods go with you! Upon your Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike
sword Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life .
Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success Is, to do thus; when such a mutual pair,
Be strew'd before your feet ! And such a twain can do't; in which, I bind
Antony's Vices and Virtues. On pain of punishment, the world to weet,
Lep. I must not think We stand up peerless.
There are evils enough to darken all his goodness: Lover's Praise.
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, Fie, wrangling queen!
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change, To weep; whose every passion fully strives Than what he chooses. . To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!
Cæs. You are too indulgent. Let us grant it Great Minds respect Truth. [teller. is not Mes. The nature of bad news infects the Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; Ant. When it concerns the fool or coward. To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit On :
[thus : | And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; Things that are past are done, with me 'tis To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, With koaves that smell of sweat: say, this I hear him as he flatter'd.
[tongue; becomes him, Speak to me home, mince not the general (As his composure must be rare indeed, Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome : Whom these things cannot blemish) yet most Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my Antony faults
[lice No way excuse his foils, when we do bear With such full licence, as both truth and ma- So great weight in his lightness. If he flid