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This happy breed of men, this little world ; The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their This precious stone set in the silver sea,
backs, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves! Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands.
On the Vanity of Power, and Misery of Kings.
No matter where; of comfort no man speak; England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Of wat'ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame, Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. With inky blots, and rotten parchment-bonds; Let's choose executors, and talk of wills; That England, that was woni to conquer others, And not yet so--for what can we bequeath, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke's, Grief. Each substance of a grief hath twenty sha- And that small model of the barren earth,
And nothing can we call our own, but death; dows,
Which serves as paste and covering to our bones. Which show like grief itself, but are not so: For Heav'n's sake, let us sit upon the ground, For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings: Divides one thing entire to many objects; How some have been depos'd, some slain
in war, Like perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon, Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; Show nothing but confusion ; eyed awry, Some poison'd by their wives; some sleeping Distinguish form.
kill'd; Hope deceitful.
All murder'd :-For within the hollow crown I will despair, and be at enmity
That rounds the mortal temples of a king, With cozening hope ; he is a Aatterer, Keeps Death his court: and there the antic sits, A parasite, a keeper back of death,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Allowing him a breath, a little scene Which false hope lingers in extremity.
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit;
As if this flesh, which walls about our life, The bay-trees in our country all are wither’d, Were brass impregnable: and hurnor'd thus, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; Comes at the last,
and with a little pin The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth; Bores thro' his castle walls, and, farewell king! And lean-look'd prophetswhisperfearfulchange: Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood Rich men look sad, and fuffians dance and leap. With solemn rev'rence; throw away respect, Richard to England, on his Arrival.
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; As a long-parted mother with her child For you have but mistook me all this while: Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in "live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, meeting;
Need friends: subjected thus, So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
How can you say to me - I am a king?
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire, But let thy spiders that suck up thy venom,
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales And heavy gaited toads, lie in their way,
Of woful ages long ago betid : Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet And, ere thou bid good night, to quit their grief, Which with usurping steps do trample thee.
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies :
And send the hearers weeping to their beds. And when they from thy bosom pluck a fow'r, | A Description
of Bolinglroke's and Richard's Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder;
Entry into London.
Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords ;
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Which his aspiring rider seemed to know
While all tongues cried, God save thee, Boling-
(spake, The Sun rising after a dark Night. You would have thought the very windows --Know'st thou not,
So many greedy looks of young and old That when the searching, eye of heaven is hid Through casements darted their desiring eyes Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, Upon his visage ; and that all the walls, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, With painted imagery, had said at once, In murders, and in outrage, bloody here; Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! But when from under this terrestrial ball Whilst he, from one side to the other turning He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, And darts his light through every guiliy hole, Bespoke them thus-I thank you, countrymen: Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
Duch. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he | And now-instead of mounting barbed steeds the while?
To fright the souls of fearful adversariesYork. As in a theatre the eyes of men, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. Are idly bent on him that enters next, But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Thinking his prattle to be tedious: [eyes Nor made to court an am'rous looking-glass; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's 1, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God majesty; save him!
To strut before a wanton, ambling nymph; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, Deform’d, unfinish'd, seni before my time His face still combating with tears and smiles, Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, The badges of his grief and patience And that so lamely and unfashionable, That had not God, for some strong purpose, That dogs bark at me, as I halt by themsteeld
Why 1, in this weak piping time of peace, The hearts of men, they must perforce have Have no delight to pass away the time, melted,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And therefore since I cannot prove a lorer,
To entertain these fair, well-spoken days
I That strew the green lapofthenew-come spring?
am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Richard's Love for Lady Anne.
[drops ;And here is not a creature but myself, Sham'd their aspects with store of childish I cannot do it-yet l'll hammer it out. These eyes, which never shed remorseful tearMy brain I'll prove the female to my soul ; Not, when my father York and Edward wept, My soul, the father ; and these two beget To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, A generation of still-breeding thoughts, When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at And these same thoughts people this little world; In humors, like the people of this world, Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, For no thought is contented
Told the sad story of my father's death;
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep. Thoughts tending to content, Aatter themselves That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time, Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars, My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame Andwhat these sorrows could not thence exhale, That many have, and others must sit there : Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with And in this thought they find a kind of case,
weeping. Bearing their own misfortune on the back I never sued to friend, nor enemy; Of such as have before endur'd the like. My tongue could never learn sweet soothing Thus play 1, in one prison, many people,
words; And none contented. Sometimes am I a king; But now thy beauty is propos'd my Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar; My proud heart sues, and prompis my tonguk And so I am: then crushing penury.
to speak. Persuades me I was better when a king; Then am I king'd again : and, by and by,
On his own Person, after his successful Think that I ain unking'd by Bolingbroke,
Addresses. And straight am nothing. --But, whate'er I am,
My dukedom to a beggarly denier, Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
I do mistake my person all this while: With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be cas'd
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, With being nothing.
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
a score or two of tailors, $32. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF KING To study fashions to adorn my body: RICHARD III. SHAKSPEARE.
Since I have crept in favor with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost. Now are our brows bound with victorious Queen Margaret's Execration. wreaths;
The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul. Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st. Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings : And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled Unless it be when some tormenting dream front;
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils !
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Thou that wast seald in thy nativity
Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud The slave of nature, and the son of hell ! “ Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjur'd Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
Clarence Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins ! That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury; Thou rag of honor, thou detested
Seize on him, furies, take him to your tor.
ments !" High Birth.
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends I was born so high,
Inviron'd me, and howled in mine ears Our aerie buildeth in the cedar's top,
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. I trembling wak’d; and, for a season after, Richard's Hypocrisy.
Could not believe but that I was in hell : But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture, Such terrible impression made my dream, Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you; And thus I clothe my naked villany
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. With old odd ends, stolen forth of holy writ,
Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done those things And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me! Clarence's Dream.
God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thes, Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, you tell me.
[Tower, Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : Clar: Methought, that I had broken from the Ospare my guiltless wife, and my poor children! And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy,
Sorrow, And, in my company, my brother Glo'ster; Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Makes the night morning, and the noontide Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward
Greatness, its Cares. [night. England,
Princes have but their titles for their glories, And cited up a thousand heavy times, An outward honor for an inward toil; During the wars of York and Lancaster, And, for unfelt imaginations, That had befall’n us. As we pac'd along They often feel a world of restless cares; Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, . [ing So that, between their titles and low name, Methought that Glo'ster stumbled; and in fall. There's nothing differs but the outward fame. Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
Duchess of York on the Misfortunes of her Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Family. O Lord! methrought, what pain it was to drown!
Accursed and unquiet wrangling days ! What dreadful noise of water in my ears !
How What sights of ugly death within mine eyes! My husband lost his life to get the crown,
many of you have mine eyes beheld! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
And often up and down my sons were tossid, A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, And being seated, and domestic broils
For me to joy and weep their gain and loss : Inestimable stones, unyalued jewels,
Clean overblown, themselves, the conquerors, All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea, [holes, Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother, Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those Blood to blood, selfagainst self:-O preposterous Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept | And frantic outrage! end thy damned spleen; (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, Or let me die to look on death no more. That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
Deceit. And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd hy. Ah! that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of And with a virtuous vizor bide deep vice! To gaze upon these secrets of the deep? (death,
Submission to Heaven, our Duty.
In common worldly things, 'tis called upKept in my soul, and would not let it forth grateful,
With dull unwillingness to pay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Much more, to be thus opposite with Heaven, Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony?
For it requires the royal debt it lent you. Clar. O no, my dream was lengthend after The Vanity of Trust in Man. O, then began the tempest of my soul! [life: O momentary grace of mortal men, I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God. With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast; The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Ready, with every nod, to tumble down Was my great father-in-law, renowned War- Into the fatal bowels of the
Contemplation. Who cried aloud "What scourge for perjury, When holy and devout religious men Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?" Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence, And so he vanish'd. Then came waņd'ring by So sweet is zealous contemplation.
of the Murder of the two young Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and Princes in the Tower.
bloody. The tyrannous and bloody act is done;
Hope. The most arch-deed of piteous massacre, True hope is swift, and Aies with swallow's That ever get this land was guilty of.
[kings. Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
A fine Evening. Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, The weary sun hath made a golden set; Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, And by the bright track of his fiery car, Wept like two children, in their death's sad Gives token of a goodly day, to-morrow. story.
Day-lreuk. “O thus, quoth Dighton, “ lay the gentle
The silent hours steal on, “ Thus, thus," quoth Forrest, “girdling one And Aaky darkness breaks within the east. another
Richmond's Prayer. Within their alabaster innocent arms;
O thou! whose captain I account myself, Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, Look on my forces with a gracious eye : Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, other.
That they may crush down with a heavy fall A book of prayers on their pillow lay; Th' usurping helmets of our adversaries! Which once," quoth Forrest, “almost chang's Make us thy mistress of chastisement, But, o the devil!--there the villain stoppd;. To theedo 1 commend my walchful soul, When Dighton thus told on—"Wesmothered Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes ; The most replenished sweet work of nature, Sleeping, and waking, O defend me still! That from the prime creation e'er she fram'd.” Richard starting out of his Dream. Hence both are gone with conscience and re- Give me another horse-bind up my wounds: morse:
Have mercy, Jesu !-Soft, I did but dream. They could not speak; and so I left them both O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict To bear these tidings to the bloody king.
The lights burn blue is it not dead midnight! Come, I have learn'd that fearful comment. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh, Is leaden servitor to dull delay; [ing What do I fear? myself? there's none else by. Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Conscience. Then fiery expedition be my wing,
Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe. Queen Margaret's Exproltation.
Richard before the Battle. I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen; A thousand hearts are great within my boOne heav'd a-high to be hurl'd down below: A mother only mock'd with two fair babes; Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; A dream of what thou wast; a garish fag, Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George, To be the aim of ev'ry dang’rous shot ; Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble; Upon them! victory sits on our helms. A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. [thers ? Alarum. Enter King Richard. Where is thy husband now? where be thy bro- K. Richard. A horse! a horse ! my kingWhere be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy? dom for a horse ! Who sues, and kneels, and says, God save the Catest. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you queen?
to a horse.
[a cast, Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? K. Richard. Slave, I have set my life upon Where be the thronging troops that follow'd And I will stand the hazard of the die: thee?
I think there be six Richmonds in the field; Decline all this, and see what now thou art: Five have I slain to-day, instead of him. For happy wife, a most distressed widow ; A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse ! For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
[Ereant. For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ; For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care ; For one that scorn'd at me, now scoru'd of me;
$ 33. ROMEO AND JULIET. For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ,
Love is a smoke rais d with the fome of And left thee but a very prey to time:
sighs; Having no more but thought of what thou wert, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; To torture thee the more, being what thou art. Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' lears: His Mother's Character of King Richard.
What is it else? a madness most discreet, Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy:
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Thy school-days frightful, desp'rate, wild, and
(turous; then, I see, queen Mab hath been with Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and ven- | She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes,
In shape no bigger than an agate stone It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!
[Juliet appears above at the Window. Drawn with a icam of little atomies,
Arise, fair gun, and kill the envious moon, Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: Who is already sick and pale with grief, Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs; That thou her maid art far more fair than she. The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; Be not her maid, since she is envious; The traces, of the small.st spider's web; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, The collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams: And none but fools do wear it; cast it offHer whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; She speaks, yet she says nothing ; what of that? Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Her eye discourses, I will answer it. Not half so big as a round little worm, I am ioo bold, 'ris not to me she speaks : Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Her chariot is an empty hazel nut,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, To twinkle in their spheres till they return. Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? And in this state she gallops night by night, The brightness of her cheek would shame those Through lorers' brains, and then they dream of stars,
(straight; | As day-light doth a lamp; her eye in heaven, On courtiers' knees, that dream on courtsies Would thro' the airy region stream so bright, O'er lawyers' fingers, who straightdream on fees; That birds would sing, and think it were not O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, night. Which of the angry Mab with blisters plagues, See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted O, that I were a glove upon that hand, are.
That I might touch that cheek !
Rom. She speaker
As is a winged messenger of heaven Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, Unto the white upturned wond'ring eyes And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats, of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, Of breaches, ambuscadocs, Spanish blades, When he bestrides the lazy.pacing clouds, Of healıbs five fathom deep; and then anon And sails upon the bosom of the air. Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, Jul. O Romeo, Romeo !- wherefore art And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
thou Romeo ? And sleeps again. This is that very Mab Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: That plais the manes of horses in the night, Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Which, once entangled, much misfortune Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at bodes.
What's in a name? that which we call a rose, This is she
By any other name would smell as sweet : Rom. Peace, peace, Merculio, peace;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Thou talk'st of nothing.
Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Mer. True, I talk of dreams :
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; Which are the children of ac idle brain, And for that name which is no part of thee, Begot of nothing but vain phantasy;
Take all myself. Which is as thin of substance as the air; Rom. I take thee at thy word: And more inconstant than the wind,whowooes Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Een now the frozen bosom of the north, Henceforth I never will be Romeo. And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Jul. What man art thou, that, thus beTurning his face to the dew-dropping south. screen'd in night, A Beauty described.
So stumblest on my counsel ? O, she doth teach thc torches to burn bright! Room. By a name Her beauty bangs upon the cheek of night, I know not how to tell thee who I am : Like a rich jewel in an Æthiop's ear: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! Because it is an enemy to thee; So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, Had I it written, I would tear the word. As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred The Courtship between Romeo and Juliet in words
(sound; the Garden.
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the Enter Romeo.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? (like. Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee diswound
[breaks ? Jul. How cam'st thou bither? tell me, and But, soft! what light thro' yonder window wherefore?