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sea;

Cor.

Man-entered thus, he waxed like a Or Jove for his power to thunder.

His heart's his mouth: And, in the brunt of seventeen bat What his breast forces, that his tles since,

tongue must vent; He lurched all swords o' the garland, And, being angry,does forget that erer For this last,

He heard the name of death.
Before and in Corioli, let me say,
I cannot speak him home. He
stopped the fliers;

CORIOLANUS AT ANTIIN. And, by his rare example, made the coward

Coriolanus. – Hear'st thou, Mars! Turn terror into sport: as waves be Aufilius – Name not the gu, fore

thou boy of tears – A vessel under sail, so men obeyed,

IIa: And fell below his stem: his sword Auf. - No more. (death's stamp).

Cor. - Measureless liar, thou hast Where it did mark it took; from

made my heart face to foot

Too great for what contains it. Bor! He was a thing of blood, whose every

( slave!motion

Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time Was timed with dying cries; alone

that ever he entered

I was forced to scold. Your judsThe mortal gate o' the city, which

ments, my grave lords, he painted

Must give this cur the lie: and his With shunless destiny, aidless came

own notion off,

(Who wears my stripes impressed on And with a sudden re-enforcement

him; that must bear struck

My beating to his grave) shall join to Corioli, like a planet: now all's his:

thrust When by and by the din of war 'gan The lie unto him. pierce

Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and His reaily sense: then straight his - lads, doubled spirit

Stain all your edges on me. — Boy! Re-quickened what in flesh was fati

False hound! gate,

If you have writ your annals true, And to the battle came he; where

'tis there, he did

That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Run reeking o'er the lives of men, Fluttered your Volsces in Corioli: as if

Alone I did it. — Boy! ’Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we

SHAKSPEARE called Both field and city ours, he never stood

THE BLACK PRINCE. To ease his breast with panting.

Our spoils he kicked at, French King. – Think we King And looked upon things precious, as

Harry strong; they were

And, princes, look you strongly arm The common muck o' the world; he

to meet him. covets less

The kindred of him hath been Than misery itself would give; re

fleshed upon us; wards

And he is bred out of that blooty His devels with doing them; and is

strain, content

That haunted usinour familiarpatiis : To spend the time to end it.

Witness our too much memorable His nature is too noble for the

shame, World:

When Cressy battle fatally was struck, He would not flatter Neptune for his | And all our princes captived, by the trident,

hand

Of that black name, Edward, black | List his discourse of war, and you prince of Wales;

shall hear Whiles that his mountain sire, - on A fearful battle rendered you in mountain standing,

music: Upin the air, crowned with a golden Turn him to any cause of policy, suu,

The Gordian kuot of it he will unSaw his heroical seed, and smiled to

loose, see him

Familiar as his garter; that, when Mangle the work of nature, and deface

he speaks, The patterns that by God and by The air, à chartered libertine, is French fathers

still, Had twenty years been made. This And the mute wonder lurketh in is a stem

men's ears, Of that victorious stock; and let us To steal his sweet and honeyed senfear

tences; The native mightiness and fate of So that the air and practic part of him.

life SHAKSPEARE. Must be the mistress to this theoric:

Which is a wonder, how his grace

should glean it, HENRY V.

Since his addiction was to courses

vain: Canterbury. – The king is full of His companies unlettered, rude, and grace and fair regard.

shallow; Ely. And a true lover of the His hours filled up with riots, banholy church.

quets, sports, Cant. — The courses of his youth And never noted in him any study, promised it not.

Any retirement, any sequestration The breath no sooner left his father's From open launts and popularity.

SHAKSPEARE. But that his wildness, mortified in

him, Seemed to die too; yea, at that very SPENSER AT COURT.

moment, Consideration like an angel came, Full little knowest thou, that hast And whipped the offending Adam

not tried, out of him;

What hell it is, in suing long to bide: Leaving his body as a paradise, To loose good daves that might be To envelop and contain celestial

better spent; spirits.

To waste long rights in pensive disNever was such a sudden scholar

content; made:

To speed to-day, to be put back toNever came reformation in a flood,

morrow; With such a heady current, scouring

To feed on hope, to pine with feare faults:

and sorrow; Nor never hydra-headed wilfulness To have thy prince's grace, yet want So soon did lose his seat, and all at

her peors; once,

To have thiy asking, yet waite many As in this king.

yeares; Hear him but reason in divinity, To fret thy soule with crosses and And, all-admiring, with an inward

with cares; wish

To eate thy heart through comfortYou would desire, the king were

less despairs; made a prelate;

To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, Hear lin debate of commonwealth

to run, affairs,

To spend, to give, to want, to be You would say, - it hath been all

undone. in-all his study:

SPENSER.

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ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BED-| EPITAPH ON SIIAKSPEARE. FORD.

What needs my Shakspeare for his Tuus morning, timely rapt with

honored bones, holy fire,

The labor of an age in piled stoni? I thought to form unto my zealous Or that his hallowed relics should Muse

be hid What kind of creature I could most Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? desire

Dear son of Memory, great heir of To honor, serve, and love, as poets use.

fame, I meant to make her fair, and free, What needl'st thou such weak witand wise,

ness of thy name? Of greatest blood, and yet more Thou in our wonder and astonishigood than great;

ment I meant the Day-Star should not Hast built thyself a live long monubrighter rise,

ment. Nor lend like influence from his lu For whilst, to the shame of slor. cent seat.

endeavoring art I meant she should be courteous,

Thy easy numbers flow, and that facile, sweet,

each heart Hating that solemn vice of great Hath from the leaves of thy uDess, pride;

valued book I meant each softest virtue there Those Delphic lines with deep imshoud meet

pression took, Fit in that softer bosom to reside.

Then thou, our fancy of itself te Only a learned and a manly soul

reaving, I purposed her, that should, with Dost make us marble with too much even powers,

conceiving; The rock, the spindle, and the shears And so sepulchred in such pomp control

dost lie, Of Destiny, and spin her own free

That kings for such a tomb would

That kines for sue hours.

wish to die. Such when I meant to feign, and

MILTON. wished to see, My Muse bade Bedford write, and

EPITAPH. that was she. Ben Jonson. UNDERNEATI this stone doth lve

As much beauty as could dre;

Which in life did harbor give
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

To more virtue than doth live.
A SWEET, attractive kind of grace,

If at all she had a faut, A full assurance given by looks,

Leave it buried in this rault. Continual comfort in a face,

One name was ElizabethThe lineaments of Gospel books! The other, let it sleep with death: I trow, that countenance cannot

Fitter, where it dved to tell, lie

Than that it lived at all. Farewell! Whose thoughts are legible in

BEX JOxsos. the eye. Was ever eye did see that face, TRANSLATION OF COWLEYS

Was ever ear did hear that tongue, EPIGRAM ON FRANCIS DRAKE. Was ever mind did mind his grace That ever thought the travel long? The stars above will make thee But eves and ears, and every

known, thought,

If man were silent here:
Were with his sweet perfections The sun himself cannot forget
cauglit.

IIis fellow-traveller.
MATTHEW ROYDEN.

Bey Jossos,

EPITAPH.

UNDERNEATH this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.
Death! ere thou hast killed another
Fair, and learned, and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

BEN JONSON.

TO WILLIAM SIDNEY, ON HIS

BIRTHDAY.
GIVE me my cup, but from the Thes-

pian well,
That I may tell to Sidney, what
This day doth say,
And he may think on that
Which I do tell
When all the noise
Of these forced joys
Are tied and gone,
And he with liis best genius left alone,

EPIGRAM.

'Twill be exacted of your name whose

UVEDALE, thou piece of the first times, a man

son, Made for what Nature could, or Whose nephew, whose grandchild Virtue can;

you are: Both whose dimensions lost, the And men will then world might find

Say you have followed far, Restored in thy body, and thy mind! When well begun: Who sees a soul in such a body set, Which must be now: they teach you Might love the treasure for the cabi

how; net.

And he that stays But I, no child, no fool, respect the To live until to-morrow, bath lost kind

two days. The full, the glowing graces there

Then enshrined,

The birthday shines, when logs not Which, (would the world not miscall

burn, but men. it flattery,)

Ben Jonson. I could adore, almost to idolatry.

BEN Joxson.

PRAYER TO BEN JONSON.

WIEN I a verse shall make, TO THE COUNTESS OF RUT Know I have prayed thee, LAND.

For ola religion's sake,

Saint Ben, to aid me. There, like a rich and golden pyramid,

Make the way smooth for me,
Borne up by statues, shall I rear When I, thy Herrick,
your head

Honoring thee, on my knee
Above your under-carved ornaments, Offer my lyric.
And show how to the life my soul
presents

Candles I'll give to thee, Your form imprest there, not with And a new altar; tickling rhymes

And thou, Saint Ben, shalt be Or common-places filched, that take

Writ

er. these times,

HERRICK. But high and noble matter, such as

flies From brains entranced, and filled TO LIVE MERRILY, AND TO with ecstasies,

TRUST TO GOOD VERSES. Moods which the god-like Sidney oft did prove,

Now is the time for mirth, And your brave friend and mine so Nor cheek or tongue be dumb; well did love.

For the flowry earth,
BEN JONSON. | The golden pomp is come.

The golden pomp is come;

For now each tree does wear, Made of her pap and gum,

Rich beads of amber here. Now reigns the Rose, and now

The Arabian dew besmears My uncontrolled brow,

And my retorted hairs. Homer! this health to thee,

In sack of such a kind, That it would make thee see,

Though thou wert ne'er so blind. Next, Virgil l'll call forth,

To pledge this second health
In wine, whose each cup's worth

An Indian commonwealth.
A goblet uext I'll drink

To Ovid ; and suppose
Made he the pledge, he'd think

The world had all one nose.
Then this immensive cup

Of aromatic wine, Catullus, I quaff up

To that terse muse of thine. Wild I am now with heat,

O Bacchus! cool thy rays; Or frantic I shall eat

Thy Thyrse, and bite the Bays. Round, round, the roof does run;

And being ravisht thus, Come, I will drink a tun

To my Propertius. Now, to Tibullus next,

This flood I drink to thee; But stay, I see a text,

That this presents to me. Behold! Tibullus lies

Here hunt, whose small return Of ashes scarce sutlice

To fill a little urn.

SONNET. ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE AGE

OF TWENTY-THREE. How soon hath Time, the subtle

thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three and

twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full

career, But my late spring no bud or

blossom show'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive

the truth, That I to mauhood am arrived so

near, And inward ripeness doth much

less appear, That some more timely-happy

spirits indu'th. Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, It shall be still in strictest meas.

ure even To that same lot, howerer mean

or high, Toward which Time leads ine, and

the will of Heaven: All is, if I have grace to use it so, As ever in my great Task-master's eye.

Milton.

ODE TO BEN JONSON.

Say how or when
Shall we, thy guests,
Meet at those lyric feasts,

Made at the Sun,
The Dog, the Triple Tun;
Where we such clusters had
As inade us nobly wild, not mad;

And yet each verse of thine Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.

My Ben!
Or come again,

Or send to us
Thy wit's great overplus;

But teach us yet Wisely to husband it, Lest we that talent spend: And having once brought to an end

That precious stock, the store Of such a wit, the world should have 10 more.

HERRICK.

Trust to good verses then;

They only will aspire, When pyramids, as men,

Are lost in the funeral fire.
And when all bodies meet

In Lethe, to be drowned;
Then only numbers sweet,
With endless life are crowned.

HERRICK.

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