Though standing naked on a mountain top, PARTING LOVERS. And banished I am, if but from thee. Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee! So Suffolk had thy heavenly company: DYING WITH THE PERSON BELOVED PREFERABLE TO PARTING. If I depart from thee, I cannot live: THE DEATH-BED HORRORS OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed? where should he dic? ACT IV. NIGHT. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful* day And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings KENT. Kent, in the commentaries Cesar writ, LORD SAY'S APOLOGY FOR HIMSELF. Justice with favour have I always done; Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. When have I aught exacted at your hands, Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you? Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, Because my book preferred me to the king; And-seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, Unless you be possess'd with dev'lish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me. KING HENRY VI PART III. ACT I. THE TRANSPORTS OF A CROWN. Do but think, How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. * Pitiful. A HUNGRY LION. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws: And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. THE DUKE OF YORK ON THE GALLANT BEHAVIOUR My sons-God knows what hath bechanced them: With this, we charg'd again; but out, alas! And spend her strength with over-matching waves. A FATHER'S PASSION ON THE MURDER OF A FAVOURITE CHILD. O, tyger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? That face of his the hungry cannibals [blood: Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,-O, ten times more,-than tygers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy. * i. e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of our attempt to rally. And I with tears do wash the blood away. ACT II. THE DUKE OF YORK IN BATTLE. Methought, he bore him* in the thickest troop, Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; MORNING. See, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!+ How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love! THE MORNING'S DAWN. This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light; What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day, or night. THE BLESSINGS OF A SHEPHERD'S LIFE. O God! methinks, it were a happy life, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, * Demeaned himself. † Neat cattle, cows, oxen, &c. Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when she dismisses him to his diurnal course. So many hours must I take my rest; So many days my ewes have been with young; Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? And to conclude,--the shepherd's homely curds, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, When care, mistrust and treason wait on him. ACT III. NO STABILITY IN A MOB. Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust; Such is the likeness of you common men. A SIMILE ON AMBITIOUS THOUGHTS. Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty; And chides the sea that sunders him from thence |