As many other manish cowards have, ACT II. SOLITUDE PREFERRED TO A COURT LIFE, AND THE ADVANTAGES OF ADVERSITY. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venemous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. REFLECTIONS ON THE WOUNDED STAG. Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,- 1 Lord. Indeed, my lord, * Barbed arrows. The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, Duke S. But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? 1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much: Then, being alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; Tis right, quoth he; this misery doth part The flux of company; Anon, a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jaques, Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? GRATITUDE IN AN OLD SERVANT. But do not so: I have five hundred crowns, I'll do the service of a younger man DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER. O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily: If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not lov'd: Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Or if thou hast not broke from company, DESCRIPTION OF A FOOL, AND HIS MORALIZING ON TIME. Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he, Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags: And I did laugh, sans intermission, Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a cour tier; And says if ladies be but young, and fair, * The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured coat. After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd In mangled forms. A FOOL'S LIBERTY OF SPEECH. I must have liberty Withall, as large a charter as the wind, Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. APOLOGY FOR SATIRE Why, who cries out on pride, That can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Till that the very means do ebb? What woman in the city do I name, When that I say, The city-woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? Who can come in, and say, that I mean her, When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? Or what is he of basest function, That says his bravery* is not on my cost, (Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech? There then; How, what then? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'd him: if he be free, Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. A TENDER PETITION. But whate'er you are, That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days; * Finery. THE BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. ACT I. ADVICE. BE thou blest Bertram! and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! Thy blood, and virtue, Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech. TOO AMBITIOUS LOVE. I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion, Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, |