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O rest! to rest! the herald of the day,

Bright Phosphorus, commands you hence, away!
The moon is pale and spent; and wingèd night.
Makes headlong haste to fly the morning light,
Who now is risen from her blushing wars,
And with her rosy hand puts out the stars,
Of which myself, the last, her harbinger,
Do stay to warn you that you not defer
Your parting hence.

Oh, yet how early! and before her time
The envious morning up doth climb,
As if she loved not bed.

What haste the jealous sun doth make

His fiery horses up to take,

And once more show his head,

Lest, dazzled with the brightness of this night,

The world should wish it last, and never miss his light.

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CHAPMAN. 1557-1634.

Our Best Pilot.

'S great seamen using all their wealth

And skills in Neptune's deep invisible paths,
In tall ships richly built and ribb'd with brass,
To put a girdle round about the world;
When they have done it, coming near the haven,
Are fain to give a warning piece, and call
A poor staid fisherman that never past
His country's sight, to waft and guide them in:
So when we wander furthest through the waves
Of glassy Glory, and the gulfs of State,
Topt with all titles, spreading all our reaches,
As if each private arm would sphere the earth,
We must to Virtue for her guide resort,
Or we shall shipwreck in our safest port.

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OYS unexpected, and in desperate plight,

Are still most sweet, and prove from whence they come :

When earth's still moon-like confidence in joy

Is at her full: True Joy descending far

From past her sphere, and from the highest heaven'
That moves and is not moved.

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LL the flowers of the spring Meet to perfume our burying: These have but their growing prime, And man does flourish but his time. Survey our progress from our birth; We are set, we grow, we turn to earth. Courts adieu, and all delights, All bewitching appetites. Sweetest breath and clearest eye (Like perfumes) go out and die; And consequently this is done, As shadows wait upon the sun.

Vain the ambition of kings,

Who seek by trophies and dead things

To leave a living name behind,

And weave but nets to catch the wind.

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ETRUCHIO. Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you

not;

Off with that bauble, throw it underfoot.

[Katharine obeys. BIANCA. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this?

*

KATHARINA. Such duty as the subject owes the prince, Even such a woman oweth to her husband;

And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour,

And not obedient to his honest will,

What is she but a foul contending rebel,

And graceless traitor to her loving lord?

Blowers.

PROSERPINA,

For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall
From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength,—a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one!
To make you garlands of; and my sweet friend,
To strew him o'er and o'er !

Oh, these I lack,

-Come, take your flowers:

Methinks I play as I have seen them do

In Whitsun pastorals: sure, this robe of mine
Does change my disposition.

FLORIZEL.

What you do

Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,

I'd have you do it ever: when you sing,

I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;

Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,

To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you

A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,

And own no other function: each your doing,
So singular in each particular,

Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

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