Page images
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

There's nothing in this world can make me joy;

(9) Life is as tedious as a twice told tale,

Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.

Departing Difeafes.

Before the curing of a strong disease, Ev'n in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest: evils that take leave, On their departure, most of all fhew evil.

Danger lays hold of any Support..

He that stands upon a flipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Arthur's pathetic Speeches to Hubert.

Methinks, nobody should be fad but I;
Yet I remember when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as fad as night,
Only for wantonnefs. By my Christendom,
So were I out of prison and kept sheep,
I should be merry as the day is long.

*

*

Have

I knit

*

*

* *

*

*

*

* * *

you the heart? when your head did but ake, my handkerchief about your brows;

(The best I had, a princefs wrought it me)

(9) Life, &c.] So in another part of the play, he says,

This act is as an ancient tale new told,
And in the last repeating troublesome.

And

I bring this paffage chiefly that the Reader may more carefully dwell on the inimitable beauties of that in the text.

And I did never afk it

you again;

And with my hand at midnight held your
head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon chear'd up the heavy time;
Saying, what lack you, and where lies your grief?
Or what good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's fon would have lain ftill,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;
But you at your
fick fervice had a prince.
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning. Do, and if you will:
If heav'n be pleas'd that you must ufe me ill,
Why then you must-Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes that never did, nor never fhall,

So much as frown on you.

* * * * * * *

*

* * *

*

Alas, what need you be fo boift'rous rough?
I will not ftruggle, I will stand stone-still.
For heav'n's fake, Hubert, let me not be bound,
Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away,
And I will fit as quiet as a lamb.

I will not ftir nor wince, nor fpeak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angrily:

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to;

Is there no remedy?

Hub. None but to lofe your eyes.

Art. O heav'n! that there were but a moth in yours, A grain, a duft, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,

Any annoyance in that precious fense:

Then, feeling what small things are boift'rous there,

Your vile intent muft needs feem horrible.

SCENE II. To add to Perfection, fuperfluous, and fufpicious.

To gild refin'd gold, to paint the lily,

To throw a perfume on the violet,

To

[ocr errors]

To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rain-bow, or with taper light
To feek the beauteous eye of heav'n to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excefs.

* * * * *

*

* * * *

*

In this the antique and well-noted face
Of plain old form is much disfigured:
And, like a shifted wind unto a fail,

It makes the courfe of thoughts to fetch about;
Startles and frights confideration;

Makes found opinion fick, and truth fufpected,
For putting on fo new a fashion'd robe.

Murderer's Look.

This is the man fhou'd do the bloody deed;
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye: that close aspect of his

Does fhew the mood of a much troubled breast.

Struggling Confcience.

The colour of the king doth come and go, Between his purpose and his confcience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles fent;

His paffion is fo ripe, it needs must break.

SCENE IV. News-tellers on the Death of Arthur.

Old men and beldams, in the streets,

Do prophecy upon it dangeroufly :

Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths;
And, when they talk of him, they shake their heads,
And whisper one another in the ear.

And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrift,
Whilft he that hears makes fearful action;

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes;
I faw a fmith, ftand with his hammer, thus,

The

The whilft his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth, fwallowing a taylor's news,
Who, with his fhears and measure in his hand,
Standing on flippers, which his nimble hafte
Had falfely thruit upon contrary feet,
Told of a many thousand warlike French,
That were embattled and rank'd in Kent.
Another lean, unwafh'd artificer

Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.

Kings evil Purposes too fervilely and haftily executed.

By

(10) It is the curfe of kings, to be attended

flaves that take their humours for a warrant,

To break into the bloody house of life :

And, on the winking of authority,

To understand a law, to know a meaning

Of dang❜rous majesty, when perchance, it frowns
More upon humour, than advis'd refpect.

A Vil

(10) It is, &c.] So the king, in A King and no King, observes,

If there were no fuch inftruments as thou,
We kings could never act fuch wicked deeds:
Seek out a man that mocks divinity,

That breaks each precept both of God and man,
And nature's too, and does it without luft,

Merely because it is a law, and good,

And live with him; for him thou can'ft not spoil.

And a little before, he fpeaks of Beffus, as the most horrid object, after confenting to his wicked propofal.

But thou appear'ft to me after thy grant,
The uglieft, loathed, deteftable thing,
That I have met with: thou haft eyes

Like flames of fulphur, which methinks do dart
Infection on me; and thou haft a mouth

Enough to take me in, where there does stand

Four rows of iron teeth-wes

A& 3. the end,

A Villain's Look, and wicked Zeal.

How oft the fight of means to do ill deeds, Makes deeds ill done? For had'ft not thou been by, A fellow, by the hand of nature mark'd, Quoted and fign'd to do a deed of shame, This murther had not come into my mind. Hadft thou but shook thy head, or made a pause, When I fpake darkly what I purposed; Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, Or bid me tell my tale in exprefs words;

Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me.

[blocks in formation]

Truft not those cunning waters of his eyes,

For villainy is not without fuch rheum;

And he long traded in it, makes it seem

Like rivers of remorse and innocence.

SCENE VII. Despair.

(11) If thou didst but consent
To this most cruel act, do but defpair,
And if thou want'ft a cord, the smallest thread,
That ever spider twisted from her womb,

Will strangle thee: a rush will be a beam

To hang thee on or wouldst thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,

And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle fuch a villain up.

ACT

(11) It is, &c.] So in the Winter's Tale. Paulina tells the king his crime is fo great, it can never be forgotten, and nothing re mains for him but to despair.

« PreviousContinue »