YOUTH, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts
May'st thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.
I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father, and myself, in friendship
First try'd our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father: In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below
him
He us'd as creatures of another place;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them
now,
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, A. 1, s. 2.
HIGH-SOULED FEELINGS MASTER-
ING PHYSICAL INFIRMITY.
FOR this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physick; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me
sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well:
And as the wretch, whose fever-weakened joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms; even so my limbs, Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief,
Are thrice themselves: hence therefore, thou nice crutch;
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif;
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron; And approach
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring,
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland!
Let heav'n kiss earth! Now let not nature's
hand
Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die!
And let this world no longer be a stage,
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead!
K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 1, s. 1.
I could beat forty of them.
MENENIUS.
Take up a brace of the best of them; yea, the two tribunes.
COMINUS. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetick;
And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands Against a falling fabrick.-Will you hence, Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear
What they are used to bear.
Pray you, be gone: I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little; this must be
With cloth of any colour.
HOME AFFECTIONS.
IF at home, sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy;
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all:
He makes a July's day short as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.
WINTER'S TALE, A. 1, s. 2.
HOME KEEPING YOUTHS HAVE EVER HOMELY WITS.
ANTONIO. Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that,
Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? PANTHINO. "Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son.
ANT. Why, what of him?
He wonder'd, that your lordship
Would suffer him to spend his youth at home;
While other men, of slender reputation,
Put forth their sons to seek preferment out:
Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there;
Some, to discover islands far away;
Some, to the studious universities.
For any, or for all these exercises,
He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet:
And did request me, to impórtune you,
To let him spend his time no more at home,
Which would be great impeachment to his age,
In having known no travel in his youth.
ANT. Nor need'st thou much impórtune me to that
Whereon this month I have been hammering.
I have consider'd well his loss of time;
And how he cannot be a perfect man,
Not being try'd, and tutor'd in the world:
Experience is by industry atchiev'd,
And perfected by the swift course of time.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 1, s. 3.
HONOUR IS FROM ABOVE.
YOUR presence glads our days; honour we love,
For who hates honour, hates the gods above.
HOPE OFT AFFORDS MORE PLEASURE THAN POSSESSION.
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,
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!
MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 2, s. 6.
HORRORS OF CIVIL WAR.
Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe!
As looks the mother on her lowly babe,
When death doth close his tender dying eyes,
See, see, the pining malady of France;
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast!
O, turn thy edged sword another way;
Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help!
One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom,
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign
Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country's stained spots!
K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 3, s. 3.
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