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Whether those peals of praise be his or no;
HIS THOUGHTS TO THE INARTICULATE JOYS OF A
There is such confusion in my powers,
Shy. I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak: I'll have my bond: and therefore speak no more, I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield To Christian intercessors.
THE BOASTING OF YOUTH.
I'll hold thee any wager, When we are both accoutred like young men,
the prettier fellow of the two, And wear my dagger with the braver grace; And speak, between the change of man and boy, With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride; and speak of frays, Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lies, How honourable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and died; I could not do with all;-then I'll repent, And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them: And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell.
That men shall swear, I have discontinued school Above a twelvemonth.
AFFECTATION IN WORDS. O dear discretion, how his words are suited! The fool hath planted in his memory An army of good words: And I do know A many fools, that stand in better place, Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word Defy the matter.
THE JEW'S REASON FOR REVENGE. You'll ask me why I rather chose to have A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that: But, say, it is my
humour*: Is it answer'd ? What if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats To have it baned? What are you answer'd yet? Some men there are, love not a gaping pig; Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat; And others, when the bagpipe sings i'the nose, Cannot contain their urine: For affectiont, Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes, or loathes: Now, for your answer; As there is no firm reason to be render'd, Why he cannot abide a gaping# pig; Why he, a harmless necessary cat; Why he, a swollen bagpipe; but of force Must yield to such inevitable shame, As to offend, himself being offended; So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing, I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd?
* Particular fancy. + Prejudice. Crying.
The quality of mercy is not strain’d;
shows the force of temporal power,
age of poverty
MOONLIGHT. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let
the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines* of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,
* A small flat dish, used in the administration of the Eucha
But in his motion like an angel sings,
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Qr race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any
air of music touch their cars, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest
gaze, By the sweet power of music: Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods, Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature: The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov'd by concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.
A GOOD DEED COMPARED. How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
NOTHING GOOD OUT OF SEASON.
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, It looks a little paler; 'tis a day, Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
A FATHER'S AUTHORITY. To you your father should be as a god; One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure, or disfigure it.
A RECLUSE LIFE.
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, You can endure the livery of a nun; For aye* to be in shady cloister mew'd, To live a barren sister all your life,
a Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood,