Father Cardinal, I have heard you fay, That we fhall fee and know our friends in heaven:

If that be true, I fhall fee my boy again;
For, fince the birthof Cain, thefirft male-child,
To him that did but yesterday fufpire,
There was not fuch a gracious creature born.
But now will canker forrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit;
And fo he'll die; and, ruling so again,
When I fhall meet him in the court of heaven.
I fhall not know him: therefore, never, never
Muft I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Pand. You hold too heinous a refpect of grief.
Conft. He talks to me, that never had a fon,
K.Phil. You are as fond of grief as of your
child.
[child,
Conft. Grief fills the room up of my abfent
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words;
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then have I reafon to be fond of grief.

Defpondency.

There's nothing in this world can make me Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, [joy: Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.

Departing Difeafes.

Before the curing of a strong difeafe, Even in the inftant of repair and health, The fit is strongest; evils that take leave, On their departure most of all thew evil.

Danger lays Hold of any Support. He that ftands upon a flipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

Arthur's pathetic Speeches to Hubert. Methinks, nobody should be fad but I: Yet, I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as fad as night, Only for wantonnefs. By my Christendom, So were I out of prifon, and kept sheep, I should be merry as the day is long,

Have you the heart? when your head did
but ake,

I knit my handkerchief about your brows
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me),
And with my hand at midnight held your
And I did never afk it you again:
head;

And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; Saying, what lack you? and, where lies your grief?

Many a poor man's fon would have lain ftill, Or, what good love may I perform for you! But you at your fick fervice had a prince. And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, And call it cunning: do, and if you will; If Heaven be pleas'd that you must ufe meill, Why then you muft.-Will you put t mine eyes?

These eyes that never did, nor never shall, So much as frown on you?

Alas, what need you be fo boift'rous rought I will not ftruggle, I will ftand ftone-ftill. For Heaven's fake, Hubert, let me not be bound!

Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away,
And I will fit as quiet as a lamb;
I will not ftir, nor wince, nor fpeak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly:
[yot,
Thruft but these men away, and I'll forgive
Whatever torment you do put me to.-
Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lofe your eyes.
Arth, O Heaven! that there were but a moth

in yours,

A grain, a duft, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, Any annoyance in that precious fenfe! Then, feeling what fmall things are boift'roes there,

Your vile intent muft needs feem horrible. To add to Perfection, fuperfluous, and fufpicion

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To fmooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper light To feek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excels.

In this the antique and well noted face
Of plain old form is much disfigured:
And, like a fhifted wind unto a fail,
It makes the courfe of thoughts to fetch
Startles and frights confideration; [about,
Makes found opinions fick, and truth ful
pected,

For putting on fo new a fashion'd robe.
Murderer's Look.

This is the man fhould do the bloody deed; The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye; that clofe afpect of his Doesfhew the mood of a much troubled breast. Struggling Confcience,

The colour of the king doth come and go Between his purpofe and his confcience,

Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles fet: His paffion is fo ripe, it needs must break.

News-tellers on the Death of Arthur. Old men and beldams, in the streets, Do prophefy upon it dangeroufly: [mouths; Young Arthur's death is common in their And, when they talk of him, they shake their And whisper one another in the ear; [heads, And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrift:

Whiles he that hears makes fearful action.

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling

eyes,

I faw afmith ftand with his hammer, thus,
The whilft his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth, fwallowing a taylor's news;
Who with his fhears and meafure in his hand,
Standing on flippers (which his nimble hafte
Had falfely thruft upon contrary feet),
Told of many a thoufand warlike French,
That were embattled and rank'd in Kent:
Another lean unwash'd artificer
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.

Kings' evil Purpofes too fervilely and haftily
executed.

It is the curfe of kings, to be attended
By flaves, that take their humours for a war-
To break into the bloody houfe of life; [rant
And, on the winking of authority,
To understand a law; to know a meaning
Of dang'rous majefty, when, perchance,

frowns

More upon humour than advis'd respect.

it

A Villain's Look, and wicked Zeal.
How oft the fight of means to do ill deeds
Makes deeds ill donel Hadft not thou been
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, [by,
Quoted, and fign'd, to do a deed of fhame,
This murder had not come into my mind:
Hadft thou but shook thy head, or made a
pause,

When Ifpake darkly what I purposed;
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,
Or bid me tell my tale in exprefs words;
Deep thame had struck me dumb, made me
break off,
[in me.
And thofe thy fears might have wrought fears
Hypocrify.

Truft not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villany is not without fuch rheum;
And he, long traded in it, makes it feem
Like rivers of remorfe and innocency.
Despair.

If thou didst but confent To this most cruel act, do but defpair, And, if thou want'ft a cord, the fmalleft thread That ever fpider twisted from her womb Will ferve to ftrangle thee; a rush will be a beam [thyfelf, To hang thee on: or, would thou drown Put but a little water in a spoon, And it fhall be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle fuch a villain up.

A Man's Tears.

Drums.

An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That thall reverberate all as loud as thine;
Sound but another, and another thall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder.
The Approach of Death.

It is too late, the lite of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which fome fuppofe the foul's frail dwell. ing-house)

Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretel the ending of mortality.

Madness occafioned by Poifon.

Ay,marry, now my foul hath elbow-room,
It would not out at windows, nor at doors,
There is fo hot a fummer in my bofom,
That all my bowels crumble up to duft:
I am a fcribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment; and again this fire
Do I fhrink up.

Poifon'd-ill fare-dead, forfook, caft off:
And none of you will bid the winter come
To thruft his icy fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Thro' my burnt bofom; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold.

England invincible, if unanimous.
England never did (nor never fhall)
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it firft did help to wound itself.
Now thefe her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them:-Nought shall
make us rue,

If England to itself do reft but true.

27. JULIUS CAESAR. SHAKSPEARE. Patriotifm. WHAT is it that you would impart to met If it be aught toward the general good Set honour in one eye,and death i' the other' Au'

And I will look on both indifferently:
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.
Caffius, in Contempt of Cæfar.

I was born free as Cæfar; fo were you:
We have both fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
For once, upon a raw and gufty day,
The troubled Tyber chafing with his fhores,
Cæfar fays to me, "Dar ft thou, Caffius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point "Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow: fo, indeed, he did.
The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lufty finews; throwing it aside,
And ftemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæfar cried, "Help me, Caffius, or I fink,"
I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his fhoulder
The old Anchifes bear, fo from the waves of
Did I the tired Cæfar: and this man [Tyber
Is now become a god; and Caffius is
A wretched creature, and muft bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.
He had a fever when he was in Spain;
And, when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did fhake;
His coward lips did from their colour fly;
And that fame eye, whofe bend do thaw the world,
Did lofe his luftre: I did hear him groan:
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his fpeeches in their books,
Alas! it cried-" Give me fome drink, Titi-
nius"-

As a fick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of fuch a feeble temper should
So get the start of this majestic world,
And bear the palm alone.

Bru. Another general shout!

[Shout flourish.

I do believe that thefe applaufes are
For fome new honours that are heap'd on Cæfar.
Caf. Why, man, he doth beftride the narrow
Like a Coloffus; and we petty men [world
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves,
Men at fome time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus, and Cæfar: what should be in thatCæfar?
Why should that name be founded more than
yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name?
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
Brutus will fart a fpirit as foon as Cæfar.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæfar feed,
That he is grown fo great? Age, thou art fham'd:
Rome, thou haft loft the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, fince the great
flood,

But it was fam'd with more than with one man?
When could they fay till now, that talk'd ofRome,
That her wide walks encompas'd but one man?

Cæfar's Diflike of Caffius.

Would he were fatter!-but I fear him not: Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid, So foon as that fpare Caffius. He reads much ; He is a great obferver, and he looks Quite thro' the deeds of men; he loves no plays, As thou doft, Antony; he hears no mufic: Seldom he fmiles; and fmiles in fuch a fort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his fpirit That could be mov'd to fmile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease, Whiles they behold a greater than themselves; And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd, That what I fear; for always I am Cæfar. Spirit of Liberty.

I know where I will wear this dagger the; Caffius from bondage will deliver Caffius: Therein, ye gods, you make the weak moft ftrong; Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: Nor ftony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor ftrong links of iron, Can be retentive to the ftrength of fpirit; But life, being weary of thefe worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself. If I know this, know all the world befides, That part of tyranny, that I do bear, I can shake off at pleasure.

Ambition, covered with fpecious Humility. But 'tis a common proof, That lowlinefs is young ambition's ladder, But when he once attains the upmost round, Whereto the climber upward turns his face; He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, fcorning the base degrees By which he did afcend.

Confpiracy dreadful till executed. Between the acting of a dreadful thing, And the firft motion, all the interim is Like a phantafma, or a hideous dream: The genius, and the mortal inftruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, fuffers then The nature of an infurrection. Confpiracy. O, confpiracy! [nigh Sham'st thou to fhew thy dangerous brow by When evils are most free? O, then, by day Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough To mask thy monftrous vifage? Seek none, ce Hide it in fmiles and affability; For if thou path, thy native femblance on, Not Erebus itself were dim enough To hide thee from prevention. Against Cruelty.

[fpiracy;

Gentle friends,
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ;
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcafe fit for hounds;
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do,
Stir up their fervants to an act of rage,
And after feem to chide them.

Sleep.
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of Qumber: