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The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of

men

At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows;-I, to bear this
That never knew but better, is some burden:
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldest thou
hate men?

They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given
If thou wilt curse--thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff
To some she beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!-
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men
Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer.

ON GOLD.

O, thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce

[Looking on the Gold. Twixt natural son and sire; Thou bright defiler Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god,

That solder'st close impossibilities,

And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongue,

To every purpose; O, thou touch* of hearts!
Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts
May have the world in empire!

TIMON TO THE THIEVES.

Why should you want? Behold the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs:
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want?

*For touchstone.

1 Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries,

water,

As beasts, and birds, and fishes.

Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes;

You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft

In limited* professions. Rascal thieves,

Here's gold: Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape,
Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth,
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays

More than you rob: take wealth and lives together;
Do, villany, do, since you profess to do't,
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture† stolen
From general excrement: each thing's a thief;
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Have uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away;
Rob one another. There's more gold: Cut throats;
All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go,
Break open shops; nothing can you steal,,
But thieves do lose it.

ON HIS HONEST STEWARD,

Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
Perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim

One honest man,-mistake me not,-but one:
No more, I pray, and he is a steward.—
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee,
I fell with curses.

Methinks thou art more honest now, than wise;
For, by oppressing and betraying me,

Thou might'st have sooner got another service:
* For legal.
+ Compost manure.

For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord's neck.

ACT V.

PROMISING AND PERFORMANCE.

Promising is the very air o' the time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use To promise is most courtly and fashionable: perform ance is a kind of will or testament, which argues & great sickness in his judgment that makes it.

WRONG AND INSOLENCE.

Now breathless wrong

Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease;
And pursy insolence shall break his wind,
With fear and horrid flight.

TITUS ANDRONICUS.

ACT I.

MERCY.

WILT thou draw near the nature of the gods?' Draw near them then in being merciful: Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.

Thanks, to men

THANKS.

Of noble minds, is honourable meed.

ACT II.

INVITATION TO LOVE.

The birds chant melody on every bush; The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun; The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground; Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, * The doing of that we said we would do.

Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,-.
Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise:
And, after conflict, such as was suppos'd

The wandering prince of Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,-
We each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
While hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds,
Be unto us, as is a nurse's song

may,

Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep.

DESCRIPTION OF A MELANCHOLY VALLEY.

A barren detested vale, you see, it is:

The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O'ercome with moss, and baleful misletoe.
Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven.

And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins *
Would make such fearful and confused cries,
As any mortal body, hearing it,

Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.

DESCRIPTION OF A RING.

Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit.

LAVINA AT HER LUTE.

Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
But lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee:
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sew'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
* Hedge-

Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,

And make the silken strings delight to kiss them;
He would not then have touch'd them for his life:
Or had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made,

He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep,
As Cerberus, at the Thracian poet's* feet.

ACT III.

LAVINA'S LOSS OF HER TONGUE DESCRIBED.

O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty, hollow cage: Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!

DESPAIR.

For now I stand as one upon a rock.
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea;

Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him.

TEARS.

When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

CRUELTY TO INSECTS.

Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buz lamenting doings in the air!

Poor harmless fly!

That with his pretty buzzing melody,

[him.

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd

REVENGE.

Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stand Now give some 'surance that thou art Revenge, Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; And then I'll come, and be thy wagoner, And whirl along with thee about the globes. * Orpheus.

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