That the fix'd sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch:
Fire answers fire: and through their paley flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face:

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs, Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,

The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will behold

The royal captain of this ruined band,

Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,

Let him cry-Praise and glory on his head!
For forth he goes, and visits all his host;
Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile:
And calls them-brothers, friends, and country-

men.

Upon his royal face there is no note,

How dread an army hath surrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour

Unto the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint,
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal, like the sun,

His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear.

K. HENRY V., A. 4, Chorus.

THE NIGHTINGALE LAMENTING THE LOSS OF ITS MATE.

WHAT was he like?

I have forgot him: my imagination
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's.
I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind, that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a
plague,

To see him every hour;

to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart, too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relicks.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, A. 1, s. 1.

THE NOBLE MIND DEFILED BY CONTACT WITH ITS INFERIOR. WELL, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, Thy honourable metal may be wrought From that it is dispos'd: Therefore 'tis meet That noble minds keep ever with their likes: For who so firm, that cannot be seduc'd? Cæsar doth bear me hard: But he loves Brutus : If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, He should not humour me. I will this night, In several hands, in at his windows throw, As if they came from several citizens, Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at: And, after this, let Cæsar seat him sure; For we will shake him, or worse days endure.

JULIUS CESAR, a. 1, s. 2.

THE OATH-BREAKER

AND BETRAYER'S PUNISHMENT.
HASTINGS and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey,
Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice:
If that your moody discontented souls

Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction !—
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?
Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's dooms-
day.

This is the day, which, in king Edward's time,
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found

False to his children, or his wife's allies:
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted:
This, this All-Souls' day, to my fearful soul,
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-seer which I dallied with,
Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head,
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters'
bosoms:

Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,-
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with

sorrow,

Remember Margaret was a prophetess.

Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

K. RICHARD III., A. 5, s. 1.

THE DIFFICULTIES OF HUNGER.

THEY are dissolved: Hang 'em! They said, they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs;

That, hunger broke stone walls; that, dogs must

eat;

That, meat was made for mouths; that, the gods sent not

Corn for the rich men only :-With these shreds They vented their complainings; which being answer'd,

And a petition granted them, they threw their

caps

As they would hang them on the horns o'the

moon,

Shouting their emulation.

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, s. 1.

THE OLD SINNER'S APOLOGY. BUT to say, I know more harm in him than in myself, were to say more than I know. That he is old, (the more the pity,) his white hairs do witness it: but that he is (saving your reverence,) a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked! If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know, is damned: if to be fat to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's company; banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 2, s. 4.

THE MISFORTUNE OF OVER
GENEROSITY.

TIMON.

Come, sermon me no further: No villainous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.

Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack,

To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart; If I would broach the vessels of my love,