S

Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay:
Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind;
But, 0, the devil—there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on,—we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she framed.

24-iv. 3.

15 Sée, how the blood is settled in his face! Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But, see, his face is black, and fulī of blood; His eye-balls farther out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like ngled man: [gling; His hair uprear’d, his nostrils stretch'd with strugHis hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. It cannot be, but he was murder'd. 22-iii. 2.

16

I was born so high,
Our aieryt buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

24--1.3. 17

New honours come upon him Like our strange garments; cleave not to their mould, But with the aid of use.

15-i. 3.

18 I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness ; And, from that full meridian of my glory,

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

25-iii. 2. 19

I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new open'd.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience.

25-iii. 2..

20
Much attribute he hath; and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him: yet all his virtues,-
Not virtuously on his own part beheld, -
Do, in our eyes, begin to lose their gloss;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted.

26-ii.3. 21

His greatness was no guard To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward.

33–ii. 4. 22

Mine honour was not yielded, But conquer'd merely.

30-ji. 11.

23 Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind" exceeds the compass of her wheel.

23-iv. 3. 24

My name is lost;
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit.

25 Though now this grained' face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up; Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear. 14-v.1.

26

Silver hairs
Will purchase us a good opinion,
And buy men's voices to commend our deeds.

29-ii, l.

27
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor
my

bad life reft me so much of friends,
But they shall find, awaked in such a kind,
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind,
Ability in means, and choice of friends,
To quit me of them throughly.

6-iv. 1.

28
A most poor man, made tame by fortune's blows:
Who, by the art of known and feeling" sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity.

34-iv. 6. 29 Poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield, In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. 10–ii. 3.

30
Dispute it like a man.

I shall do so ;
But I must also feel it as a man:
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.

15-iy. 3.

V Furrowed.
w Felt. Sorrows known, not by relation, but by experience.

31

Famine is in thy cheeks,
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery,
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.

35-v. 1. 32

My May of life
Is fall'n into the sear," the yellow leaf:
And that which should

accompany

old

age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.

15-y. 3.

33 My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart, shews That I must yield my body to the earth, And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ; Whose top-branch overpeerd Jove's spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.

23-V. 2.

34 Thou wert better in thy grave, than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this ? Consider him well: Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume: unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.

34-iii. 4. 35

Thou art e'en as just a man
As e'er my conversation coped withal.

Nay, do not think I flatter:
For what advancement may I'hope from thee,
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,

To feed, and clothe thee? Why should the poor be

flatter'd ? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; And crook the pregnant' hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear ? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish her election, She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta’en with equal thanks : and bless'd are those Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please: Give me that man, That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In

my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.

36_iii. 2.

36 How his audit stands, who knows, save Heaven ? But, in our circumstance and course of thought, 'Tis heavy with him.

36-iii. 3. 37

Your constancy Hath left you unattended.

15-ii. 2.

38 If you suspect my husbandry, or falsehood, Call me before the exactest auditors, And set me on the proof. When all our offices have been oppress'd With riotoi feeders; when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine; when every room Hath blazed with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy; I have retired me to a wasteful cock,a And set mine eyes at flow.

27-ii. 2. 39

I would, I could Quit all offences with as clear excuse,

Quick, ready
Apartments allotted to culinary offices, &c.
* A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste.

Z