An ignominious ransom, and free Than a perpetual honor. Dar'st thou die? pardon,
Are of two houses; lawful mercy sure,
Is nothing kin to foul redemption.
The miserable have no other medicine
But only hope.
Moral Reflections on the Vanity of Life.
Be absolute for death; either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing [with life:
That none but fools would keep a breath thou
Servile to all the skiey influences,
That do this habitation, where thou keep'st,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet runn'st tow'rd him still. Thou art
not noble ;
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st
Are nurs'd by baseness: thou art by no means
valiant ;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st: yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not
thyself;
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains;
That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;
And what thou hast, forgett'st. Thou art not
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou 'rt poor;
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee. Friend thou hast
none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor
youth nor age,
But as it were an after dinner's sleep,
Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and
rich,
[beauty,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we
That makes these odds all even.
The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corp'ral sufferance feels a pang as great
As when a giant dies.
Resolution from a Sense of Honor.
Claud. Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From flow'ry tenderness? If I must die,
will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in my arms!
[father's grave
Isab. There spake my brother; there my
Did utter forth a voice.
Yes, thou must die :
Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward sainted de-
Whose settled visage and delib'rate word
Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth emmew
As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.
Claud. The princely Angelo?
Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damnedst body to invest and cover
In princely guards!
The Terrors of Death.
Isab. O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin!
Claud. Ah, Isabel !
Isab. What says my brother?
Claud. Death's a fearful thing.
Isab. And shamed life a hateful. [where;
Claud. Ah, but to die, and go we know not
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the dilated spirit
To bathe in fiery floods; or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice :
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendant world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling! 'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, imprisonment,
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
[fear, Cowardly Apprehension of Death reproached.
Isab. O, faithless coward! O dishonest
wretch !
The Terrors of Death most in Apprehension.
Claud. Is there no remedy? ~
Would cleave a heart in twain.
Claud But is there any?
Isab. None but such remedy as, to save a Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is 't not a kind of invest, to take life [I think?
From thine own sister's shame? What should
Heaven grant my mother play'd my father
fair!
Isab. O, I do fear thee, Clar.dio; and I
quake,
Lest thou a fev'rous life shouldst entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect
For such a warped slip of wilderness [ance-
Ne'er issued from his blood.-Take my defi-
Die, perish! might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed-| But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, Oh, fie, fie, fie!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade; Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd; "Twere best thou diest quickly!
A beautiful Song.
Take, O take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again;
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Hide, O hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears;
But my poor heart first set free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.
Execution finely expressed.
By eight to-morrow
Thou shalt be made immortal!
As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless labor When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones.
Character of an Arch Hypocrite.
O, I conjure thee, prince, as thou believ'st
There is another comfort than this world,
That thou neglect me not, with that opinion
That I am touch'd with madness: make not
impossible
[sible
That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impos-
But one, the wickedest caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,
As Angelo; even so may Angelo,
In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch villain trust me, royal prince,
If he be less, he's nothing but he's more,
Had I more names for badness.
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn.
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean,
There where your argosies with portly sail,
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood,
Or as it were the pageants of the sea,-
Do over-peer the petty traffickers,
That curtsey to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salan. Believe me, Sir, had I such ven-
The better part of my affections would [tures,
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
forth,
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the
wind:
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and
roads :
And every object, that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.
Salar. My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethink me straight of dangerous
rocks,
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream:
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks :
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the
thought
To think of this! and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing bechanc'd, would make me
Respect to your great place!—and let the But tell not me; I know Antonio
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune
Be sometimes honor'd for his burning throne.
Impossibility of Intercession.
Against all sense you do importune her. Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror!
Reformed Man sometimes best.
They say best men are moulded out of faults!
[better And for the most, become much more the For being a little bad; so may my husband.
§ 6. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. SHAKSPEARE. Natural Presentiment of Evil finely pointed out; with a Contrast of a cheerful and melancholy Man.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad; wearies me: you say, it wearies you:
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year :
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
Sal. Why then you are in love.
Ant. Fie, fie.
Sal. Not in love neither! Then let us say
you are sad,
Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy
For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are
[Janus,
merry, Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: [eyes, Some that will evermore peep through their And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper: And others of such vinegar aspect, [smile, That they 'll not show their teeth in way of Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Cheerfulness and affected Gravity contrasted. | Go, presently inquire, and so will I, Where money is; and I no question make
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles To kave it of my trust, or for my sake.
And let my liver rather heat with wine
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man whose blood is warm with-
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the
jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks :
There are a sort men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say,
I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark."
O, my Antonio, I do know of those,
That therefore only are reputed wise,
For saying nothing; who, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn
those ears,
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not with this melancholy bait,
For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
Generous and disinterested Friendship.
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know
And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, [it:
Within the eye of honor, be assur'd
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.
How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him, for he is a Christian : [Aside.
But more for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out inoney gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice
If I can catch him once upon the hip
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails
E'en there, where merchants most do congre-
gate,
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!
A Jew's Sanctity and Hypocrisy.
Shyl. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep,
This Jacob from our holy Abraham was (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) The third possessor; ay, he was the third. Ant. And what of him? did he take inte[would say,
Shyl. No, not take interest; not as you Directly interest; mark what Jacob did : When Laban and himself were compromis'd, That all the eanlings, which were streak'd and [rank, Should fall as Jacob's hire,-the ewes being
Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost In end of autumn turned to the rams:
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
The self-same way, with more advised watch,
To find the other; and, by advent'ring both,
I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is lost but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
And when the work of generation was
Between those woolly breeders in the act,
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands,
And, in the doing of the deed of kind,
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ;
Who then conceiving, did in eaning time
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were
Jacob's.
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest;
Ant. This was a venture, Sir, that Jacob serv'd for;
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt-And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.
As I will watch the aim,-or to find both,
Or bring your latter hazard back again,
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.
Ant. You know me well; and herein spend
To wind about my love with circumstance; And, out of doubt, you do me now more In making question of my uttermost, [wrong, Than if you had made waste of all I have. Then do but say to me what I should do, That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
-Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at
Neither have I money, nor commodity [sea;
To raise a present sum: therefore go forth,
Try what my credit can in Venice do;
That shall be rack'd even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of Hea-
Was this inserted to make interest good? [ven.
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams?
Shyl. I cannot tell; I make it breed as But note me, signior.[fast:
Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul, producing holy witness, Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; A goodly apple, rotten at the heart: O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ' The Jew's Expostulation Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my monies and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribo.
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gabardine,
And all for use of that which is my own.
Well then, it now appears you need my
help :
Go to then ;-you come to me, and you say,
"Shylock, we would have monies;" you say so;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger-cur
Over your threshold :-Monies 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 whisp'ring humble-
[day last;
Say this: "Fair Sir, you spit on me on Wednes-
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much monies ?"
An Apology for a black Complexion.
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbor, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northern born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear
The best regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd it too: I would not change this
hue,
[queen.
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle
Merit no Match for the Caprice of Fortune.
-Lead me to the caskets,
To try my fortune. By this scymitar,
That slew the sophy, and a Persian prince,
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,-
I would o'erstare the sternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,|
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-
bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady: But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lychas play at dice,
Which is the better man? the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand :
So is Alcides beaten by his page;
And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.
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Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild
I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Gra. -Signior Bassanio, hear me :
If I do not put on a sober habit, [then,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look de-
murely;
[eyes
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say Amen ;
Use all the observance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent,
To please his grandam-never trust me more.
The Jew's Commands to his Daughter."
Hear you me, Jessica : [drum
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber you not up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public-street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd
faces:
[ments:-
But stop my house's ears :-I mean my case-
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter
My sober house.
Fruition more languid than Expectation.
O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new made, than they are
To keep obliged faith unforfeited. [wont
-Who riseth 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 with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. [are,
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
How like a younker, or a prodigal,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like a prodigal doth she return;
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet
wind!
The Parting of Friends.
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part:
Bassanio told him, he would make some speed
Of his return; he answer'd, "Do not so;
Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio,
But stay the very riping of the time:
And for the Jew's bond, which he hath of me,
Let it not enter in your mind of love.
Be merry; and employ your chiefest thoughts
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love
As shall conveniently become you there."
And even there his eye being big with tears,
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they parted.
False Judgment of the Many.
-Fortune now,
To my heart's hope !-Gold, silver, and base
lead.
[he hath."
"Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. What says the golden chest? ha! let me
"Who chooseth me, shall gain what many
men desire."
[meant
What many men desire !-That many may be
Of the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth
teach:
[martlet,
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Honor ought to be conferred on Merit only. Why then to thee, thou silver treasurehouse;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: "Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves."
And well said too; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune and be honorable [sume
Without the stamp of merit? Let none pre-
To wear an undeserved dignity.
O, that estates, degrees, and offices [honor
Were not deriv'd corruptly! and that clear
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover, that stand bare!
How many be commanded, that command!
How much low peasantry would then be
glean'd
[honor
From the true seed of honor! and how much
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times
To be new-varnish'd!
With bleared visages, come forth to view
The issue of the exploit.
A Song. On Fancy.
I.
Tell me, where is fancy bred ;
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
It is engender'd in the eyes;
With gazing fed and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies:
Let us all ring fancy's knell :
I'll begin it,-Ding dong, bell.
The Deceit of Ornament or Appearances.
So may the outward shows be least them-
selves.
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as
false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars;
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as
And these assume but valor's excrement,
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight,
Love's Messenger compared to an April Day. Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it.
So are those crisped, snaky, golden locks,
Which make such wanton gambols with the
Upon supposed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The scull that bred them in the sepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the gilded shore
To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put
T' entrap the wisest-Therefore, thou gaudy
gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee: Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge, [lead, Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught,
And wat'ry death-bed for him: he may win;
And what is music then? Then music is,
Even as the flourish, when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch: such it is
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day,
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence,
And summon him to marriage.-
[ear, And here choose I; joy be the consequence.
Portia's Picture.
With no less presence, but with much more
|