I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, But she may learn; and happier than this, And be my vantage to exclaim on you. Merchant of Venice, Acts II. and III. THE SEVEN AGES. The banished duke, with Jaques and other lords, are in the forest of Arden, sitting at their plain repast. Orlando, who had been wandering in the forest in quest of food for an old servant, Adam, who could "go no further," suddenly comes upon the party, and with his sword drawn, exclaims, Orlando. Forbear, I say; He dies that touches any of this fruit, Till I and my affairs are answer'd. Jaques. An you will not Be answer'd with reason, I must die. Duke Sen. What would you have? Your gentleness shall force, Orla. I almost die for food, and let me have it. Duke Sen. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orla. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you; I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days; If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church; If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. Duke Sen. True it is that we have seen better days; And take upon command1 what help we have Orla. Then but forbear your food a little while, Duke Sen. Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till your return. Orla. I thank ye: and be bless'd for your good comfort! [Exit. This wide and universal theatre Presents more woful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. Jaq. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: Made to his mistress' eyebrow: Then, a soldier; Even in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; Full of wise saws and modern3 instances, And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts Is second childishness, and mere oblivion: As You Like It, Act II. Scene VII. CLARENCE'S DREAM. The Duke of Clarence, having been imprisoned in the Tower, for the purpose of being murdered, by his brother Richard III., thus relates to Sir Robert Brakenbury, the lieutenant of the Tower, his dream of the preceding night: 1 At your command. * In Shakspeare's time beards were of different cuts, according to different characters and professions. The soldier had one fashion, the judge another, &c. 8 Trite, common instances. Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That as I am a Christian faithful man,1 Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time. Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me. Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And, in my company, my brother Gloster: Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England, Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, O Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes, Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony? O, then began the tempest to my soul! I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, The first that there did greet my stranger soul, 1 That is, not an infidel. 2 Invaluable. Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud, Clar. O Brakenbury, I have done these things,— O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children! Richard III., Act I. Scene IV. FALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. Cardinal Wolsey, after his fall from the favor of Henry VIII., thus solilo quize, and afterwards confers with his servant Cromwell: Wolsey. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, A great man should decline? Nay, and you weep, Crom. Wol. How does your grace? Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, Why, well; A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, A load would sink a navy, too much honor: O'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. Crom. I am glad, your grace has made that right use of it, Wol. I hope I have; I am able now, methinks, (Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) To endure more miseries, and greater far, Crom. The heaviest, and the worst, Is your displeasure with the king. Wol. God bless him! Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place. Wol. That's somewhat sudden: But he's a learned man. May he continue Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury. Wol. That's news indeed. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, Going to chapel; and the voice is now Only about her coronation. Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me, all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever: No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master: Seek the king; That sun I pray may never set! I have told him What, and how true thou art; he will advance thee; (I know his noble nature,) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too: Good Cromwell, 1 The chancellor is the general guardian of orphans. |