Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ;

Of prisoner's ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the 'currents* of a heady fight
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,
That beadst of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream;

And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath

On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are

these?

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,

And I must know it, else he loves me not.

ON MISERABLE RHYMERS.

Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart
I had rather be a kitten, and cry-mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers :
I had rather hear a brazen canstick‡ turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on an axletree;

And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry;

"Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.

PUNCTUALITY IN BARGAINS.

I'll give thrice so much land

To any well-deserving friend;

But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

A HUSBAND SUNG TO SLEEP BY HIS WIFE.

She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rests your gentle head upon her lap

*Occurrences.

† Drops.

Candlestick.

And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference 'twixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

A GALLANT WARRIOR.

I saw young Harry—with his beaver on,
His cuisses* on his thighs, gallantly arm'd-
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,

And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

HOTSPUR'S IMPATIENCE FOR THE BATTLE.

Let them come;

They come like sacrifices to their trim,
And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,

To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,

And yet not ours: come, let me take my horse, Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt,

Against the bosom of the prince of Wales?

Harry to Harry, shall hot horse to horse,

Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.— O, that Glendower were come !

LIFE DEMANDS ACTION.

O gentlemen, the time of life is short;

To spend that shortness basely, were too long,

* Armour.

Bewitch, charm.

If life did ride upon a dial's point,

Sill ending at the arrival of an hour.

PRINCE HENRY'S PATHETIC SPEECH ON THE DEATH OF HOTSPUR.
Brave Percy, fare thee well!

Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk :
When that this body did contain a spirit,

A kingdom for it was too small a bound:
But now, two paces of the vilest earth

Is room enough:-this earth that bears the dead,
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.

If thou wert sensible of courtesy,

I should not make so dear a show of zeal :-
But let my favours* hide thy mangled face;
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven!
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph!

KING HENRY IV.-PART II.

CONTENTION.

Contention, like a horse

Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.

POST MESSENGER.

After him came spurring hard,

A gentleman almost forespent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He asked the way to Chester, and of him

* His scarf.

† Exhausted.

I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold:
With that, he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel head; and starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.

MESSENGER WITH ILL NEWS.

This man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:

So looks the strand, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation,*

*

Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,

So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,

Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,.

And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd

I see a strange confession in thine eye:

Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin,
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so:
The tongue offends not that reports his death;
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead;
Not he, which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd knolling a departing friend.

APOSTROPHE TO SLEEP.

Sleep, gentle sleep,

Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,

* An attestation of its ravage.

H

That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber:
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody:
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile
In loathsome beds; and leavest the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge;

And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly,* death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances, and means to boot,
Deny it to a king?

REFLECTIONS ON GOLD.

How quickly nature falls into revolt

When gold becomes her object!

For this the foolish over-careful fathers

[care,

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with

Their bones with industry;

For this they have engross'd and piled up

The canker'd heaps of strange-achived gold;

* Noise.