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PUCK'S SONG.

Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecat's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent, with broom, before,
Το sweep the dust behind the door.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.

ROSALINE'S DESCRIPTION OF BIRON TO THE PRINCESS.

Ros. Another of these students at that time

Was there with him: if I have heard a truth,
Biron they call him: but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ;
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in love;

That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?

BIRON SNARED BY LOVE.

O! And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;

A very beadle to a humorous sigh;

A critic; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Sole imperator, and great general

Of trotting paritors,-O my little heart!-
And I to be a corporal of his field,

And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard :
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.

Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

DUMAIN'S VERSES.

ON a day, (alack the day!)

Love, whose month is ever May,

Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:

Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,

Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn

Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.

Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee:

Thou for whom even Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;

And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

BIRON'S IMPROVED OPINION OF LOVE.

Love adds a precious seeing to the eye; A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd; Love's feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste: For valour, is not love a Hercules,

Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?

Subtle as sphinx; as sweet and musical

As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;
And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs;
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive ;
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world;
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent;
Then fools you were these women to forswear;
Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love;

Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men ;
Or for men's sake, the authors of these women;
Or women's sake, by whom we men are men;
Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves;
Or else we lose ourselves, to keep our oaths:
It is religion to be thus forsworn:

For charity itself fulfils the law:
And who can sever love from charity?

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.

SHYLOCK'S REPLY TO ANTONIO, DESIROUS OF BORROWING
MONEY.

Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft,

In the Rialto you have rated me

About my moneys, and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe:
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,

And all for use of that which is mine own.
Well, then, it now appears, you need my help:
Go to then; you come to me, and you say,

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Shylock, we would have moneys;" You say so;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold; moneys is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
"Hath a dog money? is it possible,

A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,
Say this,-

"Fair Sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me-dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much moneys."

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not

As to thy friends; (for when did friendship take
A breed for barren metal of his friend?)

But lend it rather to thine enemy;

Who if he break, thou may'st with better face
Exact the penalty.

GRATIANO AND SALARINO.

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desired us to make stand.

Salar. His hour is almost past.

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont,
To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds: Who rises from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd,
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return;
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

THE PRINCE OF ARRAGON CHOOSES A CASKET, IN THE
HOPE OF OBTAINING PORTIA.

Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

Ar. And so have I address'd me: Fortune now
To my heart's hope!-Gold, silver, and base lead.
"Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath :"
You shall look fairer, ere I give, or hazard.

What says the golden chest? ha! let me see :-
"Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire."
What many men desire. That many may be meant
By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,

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