To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good

troth,

I have stolen naught; nor would not though I had found

Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for my meat
I would have left it on the board, so soon

As I had made my meal; and parted
With prayers for the provider.

Gui

Money, youth? Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those

Who worship dirty gods.

ACT IV.

BRAGGART.

To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I
An arm as big as thine? a heart as big?
Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not
My dagger in my mouth.

FOOL-HARDINESS.

Being scarce made up,

I mean, to man, he had not apprehension
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment
Is oft the cause of fear.

O thou goddess,

INBORN ROYALTY.

Thou divine nature, how thyself thou blazon'st
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle
As zephyrs blowing below the violet,

Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him stoop to the vale. "Tis wonderful
That an invisible instinct should frame them
To royalty unlearn'd; honour urtaught;
Civility not seen from other: valour,

That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been sow'd.

Enter ARVIRAGUS, bearing IMOGEN, as dead, in his

arms.

Bel.

Look, here he comes

The bird is dead

And brings the dire occasion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for!

Arv.
That we have made so much on. I had rather
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty,
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch,
Than to have seen this.

Gui.

O sweetest, fairest lily!
My brother wears thee not the one half so well,
As when thou grew'st thyself.

Rel.

O, melancholy Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare* Might easiliest harbour in?--Thou blessed thing: Jove knows what man thou might'st have made; but I, Thou died'st a most rare boy of melancholy!— How found you him?

Arv.

Stark,† as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek Reposing on a cushion.

Gui.

Arv.

Where?

O' the floor;

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought, he slept; and put
My clouted broguest from off my feet, whose rude-
Answer'd my steps too loud.

Gui.
Why, he but sleeps;
If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed;
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come to thee.

[ness

With fairest flowers,

Arv.
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,

I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
The azur'd hare-bell like thy veins: no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath; the ruddocks would
With charitable bill (O bill, sore-shaming

*Slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel.
+ Shoes plated with iron.

† Stiff.

§ The red-breast.

1

Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie,
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;

Yea and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground* thy corse.

Bel Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for
Cloten

Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys:
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paid for that: Though mean and mighty,
rotting

Together, have one dust; yet reverence,

(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely;
And though you took his life, as being our foe,
Yet bury him as a prince.

Gui.

Pray you, fetch him hither, Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive.

FUNERAL DIRGE.

Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers come to dust.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Gui. Fear not slander, censure‡ rash;
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan
Both. All lovers, young, all lovers must

Consigns to thee, and come to dust.

*Probably a corrupt reading for wither round thy † Punished..

corse.

+ Judgment.

§ Seal the same contract.

Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

IMOGEN AWAKING.

Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way?

I thank you-By yon bush?--Pray, how far thither?
Ods pittikins!*-can it be six miles yet?

I have gone all night:-'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep,
But, soft! no bedfellow:-O, gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the body
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world;
This bloody man, the care on't.—I hope, I dream;
For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper,

And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so;
Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes,
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind, good faith
I tremble still with fear: but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity

As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt.

ACT V.

A ROUTED ARMY.

No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, But that the heavens fought: The king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling *This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity. + An arrow.

Merely through fear; that the straight pass was

damm'd* With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame.

DEATH.

I, in mine own wo charm'd,

Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him where he struck: Being an ugly mon. ster,

'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war.

HAMLET.

ACT I.

PRODIGIES.

IN the most high and palmyf state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets

As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.

GHOSTS VANISH AT THE CROWING OF A COCK.

Ber. It was about to speak when the cock crew Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill sounding throat Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring§ spirit hies To his confine: and of the truth herein This present object made probation.]]

Blocked up.

§ Wandering.

† Victorious.
Il Proof.

+ The moon.