Elegant Extracts: Or, Useful and Entertaining Pieces of Poetry

Inborn Royalty.

O, thou goddefs,

Thou divine nature, how thyfelfthou blazon'ft
In these two princely boys! they are as gentle
As zephyrs, blowing, below the violet,
Not wagging his fweet head; and yet as rough
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud' ft wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him ftoop to theyale.'Tiswonderful
That an invifible inftinet fhould frame them
To royalty unlearn'd; honour untaught;
Civility not feen from other; valour,
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been fow'd!

Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in his Arms.

Bel Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occafion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for!

Arv. The bird is dead

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Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; And, though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that: though meal, and mighty Together have one duft; yet reverence[rotung (That angel of theworld doth makediluneta Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely;

And though you took his life, as being our fœe, Yet bury him as a prince.

Guid. Pray you fetch him hither, Therfites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive.

Ary.

Funeral Dirge. Guid. Fear no more the heat o' the fun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy wordly task haft done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages? Golden lads and girls all muft, As chimmey-fweepers, come to duft, Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art paft the tyrant's ftroke; Care no more, to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The fceptre, learning, phyfic, muff All follow this, and come to duft. dr. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-ftone; Guid. Fear no more the lightning flash, Guid. Fear no flander, cenfure rath; dru. Thou hatt finish'd joy and moan. Imogen awaking. Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the

Ods, pitikins!--can it be fix miles yet fleep I have gone all night-faith,TII lie down and But foft! no bedfellow:-O gods and goddetle [Seeing the body. [cheek Thefe flow'rs are like the picafures of the world; This bloody man, the care on 't. I hope I For, fo, I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honeft creatines: but 'tis not fo; Twas but a bolt of nothing, thot at nothing

Arv. O' the floor; [put His arms thus leagured: I thought he fept; and My clouted brogues from off my feet, whefe Anfwer'd my fteps too loud, [rudeness

dream;

Which

Which the brain makes of fumes: our very

eyes

[Good faith,

Real Grief.

Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not feems. Are fometimes like our judgments, blind.'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

I tremble ftill with fear: but if there be
Yet left in heaven as finall a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dresin's here till: even when I awake, it is
Without me,as within me; not imagin'd,felt.
Routed Army.

No blame be to you, Sir: for all was loft,
But that th heavens fought the king himfelf
Of his wings deftitute, the army broken,
And bit the backs of Britons feen, all flying
Thro' aftraight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with flaught'ring, having
work

More plentiful than tools to do 't, ftruck down
Some mortally, fome lightly touch'd, fome
Edling

Merely through fear; that the ftraight pafs
was damm'd
living
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards
To die with lenghthen'd fhame.
Death.

I, in mine own woe charm'd, [groan;
Could not find death, where I did here him
Nor feel him, where he ftruck: being an ugly
moafter.
[beds,
Tis ftrange, he hides him in fresh cups, foft
Sweet words; or hath more minifters than we,
That draw his knives i' the war.

f. 18. HAMLET. SHAKSPEARE.
Prodigies.

IN the moft high and palmy ftate of Rome,
A little ere the mightest Julius fell, [dead
The graves flood tenantlefs, and the theeted
Did fqueak and gibber in the Roman streets;
Stars thone with trains of fire, dews of blood
fell;

Difafters veil'd the fun; and the moifk star,
Up
ponwhofe influence Neptune's empireftands,
Was tick almost to doomiday with eclipfe.
Ghafts vanish at the crowing of the Cock; and the

Reverence paid to Chriftmas-Time.
Ber. Itwas about tof peak,when thecockcrew.
Har. And then it started like a guilty thing,
Upon a fearful fummons, I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and fhrill-founding throat
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
Whether in fea or fire, in earth or air,
Th extravagant and erring fpirit hies
To his confine and of the truth herein,
This prefent object made probation.

Mar. It faded at the crowing of the cock.
Some fay, that ever 'gainst that feafon comes,
Where in our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning fingeth all night long:
And then they fay, no fpirit walks abroad,
The nights are wholefome; then no planets

frike,

No fairy takes, nor witch hath pow'r to charin,
So hallow'd and fo gracious is the time.
Morning.

But, look, the mora, in ruffet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eattern hill.

Nor cuftomary fuits of folemn black,
Norwindy fufpiration of forc'd breath,
No.nor the fruitful river in the eye,
| Nor the dejected haviour of the vifage,
Together with all forms, modes, fhews of grief,
That can denote me truly: thefe, indeed, feem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within, which paffeth thow;
Thefe, but the trappings and the fuits of woe.
Immoderate Grief difcommended.

'Tis fweet and commendable in your na
ture, Hamlet,

To give thefe mourning duties to your father?
But, you must know, your father loft a father;
That father loft, loft his; and the furvivor
bound,

In filial obligation, for some term
To do obfequious forrow. But to perfevere
In obftinate condolement, is a courfe
Ofimpious tubbornnefs; 'tis unmanly grief
It thews a will most incorrect to Heaven;
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;
An understanding fimple and unfchool'd:
For what we know, muft be,and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to fenfe.
Why thould we, in our peevith oppofition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to Heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
Toreafon moft abfurd; whofe common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corfe till he that died to-day;
This must be fo.

Hamlet's Soliloquy on his Mother's Marriage.
O, that this too, too folid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and refolve itfelf into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd [God!
His cannon gainft felf-flaughter! O God! O
How weary, itale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the ufes of this world I
Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to feed; things rank and grofs in

Than I to Hercules: within a month,
Ere yet the falt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married: O moft wicked speed, to poft
With fuch dexterity to incestuous fheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
A complete Man.

He was a man, take him for all in all,
I fhall not look upon his like again.
Cautions to young Ladies.

For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, fweet, not lafting.
The perfume and fuppliance of a minute;
No more

Thenweigh what lofs your honour may fuftain,
If with too credent ear you lift his fongs;
Or lofe your heart; or your chafte treasure

open

To his unmaster'd importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the hot and danger of defire.
The charieft maid is prodigal enough,
If the unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'fcapes not calumnious ftrokes:
The canker galls the infants of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be difclos'd:
And in the morn and liquid due of youth
Contagious blaftments are most imminent.
A Satire on ungracious Paftors.

I fhall th' effects of this good leffon keep
As watchmen to my heart: but,good my bro.
Do not,as fome ungracious paftors do, [ther,
Shew me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whilft, like a puft and reckless libertine,
Himfelf the primrofe paths of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.

A Father's Advice to his Son, going to travel.
Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou haft, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy foul with hooks of fteel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Be.
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, [ware
Bear it, that the oppofer may beware of thee.
Give ev'y man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's cenfure, but referve thy judg.
Coftly thy habit as thy purfe can buy, [ment.
But not exprefs'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:
For loan oft lofes both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all, to thine ownfelf be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be falfe to any man.
Hamlet on the Appearance of his Father's Ghoft.
Angels and minifters of grace, defend us!
Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damn'd,
Bringwith thee airs from heaven, or blafts from
be thy intents wicked, or charitable, [hell,

Thou com'ft in fuch a queftionable fhape,
That I willfpeak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane: 0, answer me:
Let me not burft in ignorance! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death,
Have burst their cerements?why the fepulchre
Wherein we faw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean,
That thou, dead corfe, again, in complete
Revifit'ft thus the glimpfes of the moon, feel,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to fhake our difpofition [fouls
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our

The Mifchiefs it might tempt him to.
What if it tempt you towards the flood, my
That beetles o'er his bafe into the fea?
Or to the dreadful fummit of the cliff, [lord,
And there affume fome other horrible form,

Which might deprive your fovereignty of

reafon,

And draw you into madnefs! Think of it:
The very place puts toys of defperation,
Without more motive, into ev'ry brain,
That looks fo many fathoms to the fea,
And hears it roar beneath.

Enter Gheft and Hamlet.
Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? fpeak,I'll
Ghoft. Mark me.

Ham. I will.

[go no further.

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their
fpheres ;

Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternal blazon muft not be
To ears of flesh and blood: lift, lift, O list!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love-
Ham. O Heaven!
[murder.
Ghoft. Revenge his foul and most unnatural
Ham. Murder?

Ghoft. Murder most foul, as in the beftit is
But this moft foul, ftrange, and unnatural.
Ham. Hafte me to know it; that I, with

wings as fwift

As meditation, or the thoughts of love,
May fweep to my revenge.

Ghost. I find thee apt;

And duller fhouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in eafe on Lethe's wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear:

'Tis given out, that fleeping in my orchard, A ferpent ftung me; fo the whole ear of DenIs by a forged procefs of my death [mark Rankly abus'd; but know, thou noble youth, The ferpent that did fting thy father's life Now wears his crown.

Ham. O my prophetic foul ! my uncle?
Ghoft. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate
beaft,
[gifts,
With witchcraft of his wit, with trait rous
(O wicked wits and gifts, that have the pow'r
So to feduce!) won to his fhameful luft queen:
The will of my moft feeming-virtuous
O Hamlet, what a falling off was there!
From me, whofe love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch,whofe natural gifts were poor
To thofe of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Tho' lewdnefs court it in a fhape of Heaven;
So luft, tho' to a radiant angel link'd,
Will fate itfelf in a celeftial bed,
And prey on garbage.

But,foft! methinks, I fcent the morning air;-
Brief let me be: fleeping within mine orchard,
My cuftom always of the afternoon,
Upon my fecure hour thy uncle ftole,
With juice of curfed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous diftilment; whofe effect
Holds fuch an enmity with blood of man,
That,fwift as quickfilver, it courfes through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And, with a furden vigour, it doth poffet
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholesome blood: fo did it mine;
And a moft inftant tetter bark'd about,
Moit lazar like, with vile and loathfome cruft,
All my fmooth body.

Thus was 1, fleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen at once difpatch'd:
Cut off even in the bloffoms of my lin,
Unhoufel'd, difappointed, unanel'd;
No reckoning made, but fent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head:
O horrible! O horrible! most horrible !
If thou haft nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned inceft.
But how foever thou purfueft this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy foul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to Hea-

And fhall I couple hell? Ofie! hold, hold, my

heart!

And you, my finews, grow not inftant old,
But bear me ftiffly up! Remember thee?
Ay, thou poor Ghost,while memory holds a
feat

In this distracted globe. Remember thee?..
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All faws of books,all forms, all preffures paft,
That youth and obfervation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone fhall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with bafer matter: yes, by Heaven.
O moft pernicious woman!

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables-meet it is I fet it down,
That one may fmile, and fmile, and be a vil
lain;

At least I am fure it may be fo in Denmark. [Writing So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; It is, Adieu, adieu! Remember me. Ophelia's Defeription of Hamlet's mad Addrefs to her.

My lord, as I was fewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd; No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle; Pale as his fhirt;his knees knocking each other; And with a look fo piteous in purport, As if he had been loofed out of hell, To speak of horrors-he comes before me. Pol Mad for thy love?

Oph. My lord, I do not know j But, truly, I do fear it.

Pol. What faid he?

Oph. He took me by the wrift, and held me hard;

Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And with his other hand thus o'er his brow
He falls to fuch perufal of my face,
As he would draw it. Long staid he fo ;-
At laft-a little fhaking of mine arm,
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He rais'd a figh fo piteous and profound,
As it did feem to fhatter all his bulk,
And end his being. That done, he lets me go;
And, with his head over his fhoulder turn'd,
He feem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out of doors he went without their helps,
And, to the laft, bended their light on me.
Old Age

Befhrew my jealousy 1

It feems, it is as proper to our age
To caft beyond ourfelves in our opinions,
As it is common for the younger fort
To lack difcretion.

Happiness conffts in Opinion.
Why, then, 'tis none to you;
For there is nothing either good or bad,
But thinking makes it fo:
To me it is a prifon.

Hamlet's Reflections on the Player and himself.
O what a rouge and peafant flave am 11-
Is it not monftrous that this player here,
But

But in a fiction, in a dream of paffion,
Could force his foul fo to his own conceit,
That, from her working, all his vifage wann'd!
Tears in his eyes, diftraction in 's afpect,
A broken voice, and hiswhole function fuiting
With forms to his conceit and all for no-
For Hecuba!
[thing!
What's Hecuba to him,or he to Hecuba, [do,
That he should weep for her? what would he
Had he the motive and the cue for paffion,
That I have? he would drown the ftage with
tears,

And cleave the gen'ral ear with horrid fpeech;
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet I-

A dull and muddy mettled rafcal, fpeak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can fay nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whofe property and moft dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nofe, gives me the lie i
the throat,

As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?
Ha! why, I should take it :-for it cannot be,
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall
To make oppeffion bitter; or, ere this,
I fhould have fatted all the region kites
With this flave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kind-

lefs villain!

Why, what an afs am I? This is moft brave;
That I, the fon` of a dear father murder'd,
Prompted to my revenge by heaven,and hell,
Muft like a whore, unpack my heart with
And fall a curfing like a very drab-[words,
A fcullion!

Fie upon 't! foh! About, my brains! Humph!

I have heard,

That guilty creatures, fitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the fcene
Been fo ftruck to the foul, that prefently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions:
For murder, tho' it haveno tongue, will fpeak
With most miraculous organ. I'll have thefe
players

Play fomething like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle: I'll obferve his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench,
I know my courfe. The fpirit that I have feen,
May be a devil: and the devil hath pow'r
To affume a pleafing fhape; yea,and, perhaps,
Out of my weaknef's and melancholy,
(As he is very potent with fuch fpirits)
Abufes me to damn me I'll have grounds
More relative than this, the play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the confcience of the king.
Hypocrify.

We are oft, to blame in this-
'Tis too much prov'd-that, with devotion's
vifage
And pious action, we do fugar o'er
The devil himself,

King. O, 'tis too true! how smart
A lafh that fpeech does give my confcience!
The harlot's cheek, beautied with platt ring

art,

Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it, Than is my deed to my moft painted word Life and Death weighed.

To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether'tis nobier in the mind, to fuffer The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune; Or to take arms against a fea of troubles, And by oppofing, end them; To die-t Bleep

No more; and by a fleep to fay we end
The heart-ach, and the thoufand natural shocks
That fleth is heir to;-'tis a confummation
Devoutly to be with'd. To die ;-to fleep;
To fleep! perchance, to dream;ay, there's
the rub;
» [come,
For in that fleep of death what dreams may
When we have huffled off this mortal coil,
Muft give us paufe :-there's the respect,
That makes calamity of fo long life; time,
For who would bear the whips and fcorns of
Th' oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's co-
tumely,

The pangs of defpis'd love, the law's delay,
The infolence of office, and the fpurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bez,
To grunt and fweat under a weary life;
But that the dread of fomething after death,
The undiscover'd country, from whofe boura
No traveller returns-puzzles the will!
And makes us rather bear thofe ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of!
Thus confcience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of refolution
Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought;
And enterprifes of great pith and moment
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lofe the name of actions

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