16 I am a feather for each wind that blows.
17 Let's take the instant by the forward top:
For we are old, and on our quickest decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Steals ere we can effect them.

18

Come what may;

Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. 19 Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters.

20

This even-handed justice

Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips.

21 I dare do all that may become a man,

Who dares do more is none.

22

We fail!

23

But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout.

24 The labour we delight in physics pain.
25 A falcon towering in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.
26 Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.

27 Throw physic to the dogs: I'll none of it!
28 Thou wear a lion's hide! Doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.
29 The better part of valour is discretion.
30 Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.
31 Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just.
32 True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings:

Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. 33 One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. 34 Time hath, my lord, a wallet on his back,

Wherein he puts alms for oblivion.

XXIII. BARNFIELD.

ODE.

As it fell upon a day

In the merry month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Which a grove of myrtles made;
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,
Trees did grow, and plants did spring:
Every thing did banish moan,

Save the nightingale alone;

She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry;
Teru, teru, by and by;

That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs, so lively shown,
Made me think upon my own.
Ah! thought I, thou mourn'st in vain;
None takes pity on thy pain:

Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee.
Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee:
King Pandion, he is dead;

All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;

All thy fellow-birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing!

Whilst as fickle Fortune smil'd,
Thou and I were both beguil❜d.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.

Words are easy, like the wind ·
Faithful hearts are hard to find.

Every man will be thy friend,

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend:
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.

If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call;
And with such-like flattering,
"Pity but he were a king,"
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;

But, if Fortune once do frown.
Then farewell his great renown
They, that fawned on him before
Use his company no more.
He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need.
If thou sorrow, he will weep,
If thou wake, he cannot sleep :
Thus, of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part:
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.

XXIV. ANONYMOUS.

CHEVY CHASE-A BALLAD.

God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;

A woeful hunting once there did
In Chevy Chase befal.

To hunt the deer with hound and horn.
Earl Percy took his way:

The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day.

The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer days to take:
The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase
To kill and bear away,

These tidings to Earl Douglas came,
In Scotland where he lay;

Who sent earl Percy present word,
He would prevent his sport.
The English earl, not fearing this,
Did to the woods resort.

With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might,
Who know full well in time of need
To aim their shafts aright.

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deer;
On Monday they began to hunt,
Ere daylight did appear.

And long before high noon they had
An hundred fat bucks slain;
Then having dined, the drovers went
To rouze them up again.

The bow-men mustered on the hills,
Well able to endure;

Their bodies all, with special care,
That day were guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,
The nimble deer to take,

And with their cries the hills and dales
An echo shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went,
To view the slaughterd deer;
Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised
This day to meet me here.

But, if I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay."
With that a brave young gentleman
Thus to the earl did say :

"Lo yonder doth earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright;

Full twenty hundred Scottish spears,
All marching in our sight:

All men of pleasant Teviotdale
Fast by the river Tweed.”

"Then cease your sport," earì Percy said,
"And take your bows with speed.

And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance,
For never was there champion yet
In Scotland or in France,

That ever did on horseback come,
But, if my hap it were,

I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear."

Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed
Most like a baron bold,

Rode foremost of the company,

Whose armour shone like gold.

"Show me," said he, "whose men you be
That hunt so boldly here.

That, without my consent, do chase
And kill my fallow-deer."

The man that first did answer make,
Was noble Percy he:

Who said, "We list not to declare
Nor show whose men we be.

Yet will we spend our dearest blood,
Thy chiefest harts to slay

Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say,

"Ere thus I will out-braved be,
One of us two shall die;

I know thee well; an earl thou art-
Lord Percy, so am I.

But trust me, Percy, pity 'twere,
And great offence to kill

Any of these our harmless men,

For they have done no ill.

N