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796

Old M.

Ross.

Old M.

Ross.

Old M.
Ross.

THR

AN OLD MAN-ROSS

HREE score and ten I can remember well; within the volume of which time I have seen hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night

hath trifled former knowings.

Ah, good father, thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act, threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day, and yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp: is't night's predominance, or the day's shame, that darkness does the face of earth entomb, when living light should kiss it?

'Tis unnatural,
even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last
a falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and killed.
And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange and
certain,)

beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
contending 'gainst obedience, as they would
make war with mankind.

'Tis said, they ate each other. They did so,-to the amazement of mine eyes, that look'd upon't.

797

W. SHAKESPEARE

TIMON OF ATHENS TO THE BANDITTI

ET thanks I must you con,

YET

that you are thieves profess'd; that you work not

in holier shapes: for there is boundless theft

in limited professions. Rascal thieves,

here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape, till the high fever seethe your blood to froth,

and so scape hanging; trust not the physician;

his antidotes are poison, and he slays

more than you rob; take wealth and lives together;
do villany, do, since you protest to do't,
like workmen. I'll example you with thievery :
the sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief,

798

Fr.

and her pale fire she snatches from the sun:
the sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
the moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief,
that feeds and breeds by a composture stol'n
from general excrement; each thing's a thief;
the laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
have uncheck'd theft.

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Ro. Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,
it cannot countervail the exchange of joy
that one short minute gives me in her sight :
do thou but close our hands with holy words,
then love-devouring death do what he dare,—
it is enough I may but call her mine.
Fr. These violent delights have violent ends,

799

and in their triumph die: like fire and powder,
which, as they kiss, consume: the sweetest honey
is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
and in the taste confounds the appetite:

therefore, love moderately; long love doth so:
too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.-
Here comes the lady:- -O, so light a foot
will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:
a lover may bestride the gossamer
that idles in the wanton summer air,
and yet not fall; so light is vanity.

PÆSTUM

W. SHAKESPEARE

IS said a stranger in the days of old

'TIS

(some say a Dorian, some a Sybarite:
but distant things are ever lost in clouds)
'tis said a stranger came, and, with his plough,
traced out the site; and Posidonia rose,
severely great, Neptune the tutelar God;
a Homer's language murmuring in her streets,
and in her haven many a mast from Tyre.
Then came another, an unbidden guest,

he knocked and entered with a train in arms;

and all was changed, her very name and language!

800

801

The Tyrian merchant, shipping at his door
ivory and gold and silk and frankincense,
sailed as before, but, sailing, cried 'For Pæstum !'
And now a Virgil, now an Ovid sung
Pæstum's twice-blowing roses: while, within,
parents and children mourned—and, every year
('twas on the day of some old festival,)
met to give way to tears, and once again,
talk in the ancient tongue of things gone by.

THE LOVER'S PLEA

'HY striv'st thou to be gone?

WHY

S. ROGERS

why should'st thou so desire to be alone?
thy cheek is never fair when none is by:
for what is red and white but to the eye?
and for that cause the heavens are dark at night,
because all creatures close their weary sight:
for there's no mortal can so early rise,
but still the morning waits upon his eyes.
The early rising and soon-singing lark
can never chant her sweet notes in the dark;
for sleep she ne'er so little or so long,
yet still the morning will attend her song.
All creatures that beneath bright Cynthia be,
have appetite unto society:

the overflowing waves would have a bound
within the confines of the spacious ground,
and all their shady currents would be placed
in hollow of the solitary vast,

but that they loathe to let their soft streams sing
where none can hear their gentle murmuring.

F. BEAUMONT

EVE'S RELATION OF HER DREAM TO ADAM

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SOLE in whom my thoughts find all repose,
my glory, my perfection, glad I see

thy face, and morn returned; for I this night—
such night till this I never passed—have dreamed,
if dreamed, not as I oft am wont, of thee,
works of day past, or morrow's next design,
but of offence and trouble, which my mind
knew never till this irksome night. Methought,

close at mine ear, one called me forth to walk
with gentle voice-I thought it thine. It said,
'Why sleepest thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time,
the cool, the silent, save where silence yields
to the night-warbling bird, that now awake
tunes sweetest his love-laboured song: now reigns
full-orbed the moon and, with more pleasing light,
shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,
if none regard. Heaven wakes with all his eyes,
whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire?

in whose sight all things joy, with ravishment
attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.'

802 I rose as at thy call, but found thee not;
to find thee I directed then my walk;

and on, methought, alone I passed through ways
that brought me on a sudden to the tree
of interdicted knowledge. Fair it seemed,
much fairer to my fancy, than by day;
and, as I wondering looked, beside it stood

one shaped and winged like one of those from Heaven,
by us oft seen: his dewy locks distilled

ambrosia. On that tree he also gazed;

and 'O fair plant,' said he, 'with fruit surcharged,
deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet,
nor God, nor man! is knowledge so despised?
or envy or what reserve forbids to taste?
forbid who will, none shall from me withhold
longer thy offered good; why else set here?'
This said, he paused not, but with venturous arm
he plucked, he tasted. Me damp horror chilled
at such bold words, vouched with a deed so bold;
but he thus overjoyed: 'O fruit divine

sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropt,
forbidden here, it seems as only fit

for Gods, yet able to make Gods of men.

803 And why not Gods of men, since good, the more communicated, more abundant grows,

the author not impaired, but honoured more?
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve!
partake thou also; happy though thou art,
happier thou mayest be, worthier canst not be.
Taste this and be henceforth among the Gods,
thyself a Goddess, not to earth confined,

804

but sometimes in the air, as we, sometimes
ascend to Heaven, by merit thine, and see
what life the Gods live there, and such live thou.'
So saying he drew nigh, and to me held,

even to my mouth of that same fruit held part
which he had plucked: the pleasant savoury smell
so quickened appetite, that I, methought,
could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds
with him I flew and underneath beheld

the earth outstretched immense, a prospect wide
and various. Wondering at my flight and change
to this high exaltation, suddenly

my guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down and fell asleep; but oh, how glad I waked

to find this but a dream!'

LADY MACBETH-MACBETH

L.M. WHY, worthy thane,

M.

L.M.

Μ.

J. MILTON

you do unbend your noble strength, to think
so brainsickly of things.-Go, get some water,
and wash this filthy witness from your hand.—
Why did you bring these daggers from the place?
they must lie there: go, carry them; and smear
the sleepy grooms with blood,

I'll go no more:
I am afraid to think what I have done;
look on't again I dare not.

Infirm of purpose!

Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead
are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood
that fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
for it must seem their guilt.

Whence is that knocking!

How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine

eyes!

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine,

making the green one red.

W. SHAKESPEARE

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