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Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument !) bring thee all this;
Yea and surr'd moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corse.
Bel Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys:
And, though he came our enemy, remember,
He was paidt for that: Though mean and mighty,
rotting Together, have one dust; yet reverence, ('That angel of the world,) doth make distinction or place 'tween high and low. Our loe was princely; And though you took his lise, 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.
Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thoc thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As rhimney-sweepers come to dust.
Arv. Fear no more the flown o’the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
'T'o thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Gui. Fear no inore the lightning-Nash,
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded lihunder-stone;
(jui. Fear not slander, censureț rash;
Hrv. Thou hast finish'd jos ard moan:
Both. All lovers, young, all lovers must
Consigns to thee, and come to dust. * Probably a corrupt reading for uither round thy
Gui. No exorciser harm thee!
Aiv. Nor no witchcrast charm thee!
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!
Yes, sir, to Millord-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, sost! no bedfellow:-0, gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody inan, 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; "T'was but a boltt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of lumes: 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 drean's here still: even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me; not imagin’d, felt.
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 I'hrough a straight lanc; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful ihan tools to do't, struck down Some inortally, some slightly touch’d, some falling
* This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's ng pity.
† An arrow.
Merely through fear; that the straight pass was
danun' l* With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthcn’d shame.
I, in mine own wo chrom’d, Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor leel him where he struck: Being an ugly nion.
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.
PRODIGIES. IN the most high and palmyt state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Július sell, The graves stood tcnantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Ronian streets As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star, 1 Upon wnose influence Neptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.
GHOSTS VANISH AT THE CROWING OF A COCR.
Ber. It was about to speak when the cock crow
Hər. And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet of the niorn,
Doth with his losty and shrill sounding thrnat
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
Whether ia sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and errings spirit hies
To his confine: and of the truth herein
This present object made probation.ll
* Blocked up.
+ Vic!orious. # The moon.
Ś Wandering. ll Prouf.
THE REVERÈNCE PAID TO CHRISTMAS TIME.
It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long;
And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems.
'Tis not alone, my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denoté me truly: These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play:
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of wo.
IMMODERATE GRIEF DISCOMMENDED.
Tis sweet and comniendable in your nature, Ham.
'To give these mourning duties to your father;
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
'That father lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term
To do obsequious sorrow: But to persevere
In obstinate condolement, is a course
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly gries:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven:
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool!:
For what, we know, must be, and is as common,
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to hearen,
A l'ault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason ninst absurd; whose common theme
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
This must be so.
HAMLET'S SOLILOQUE ON HIS MOTHER'S MARRIAGE.
0, that this too too solid flesh wouid melt,
Shaw, and resolve* itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canont ’gainst sell-slaughter! O God! O God'
How weary, stale, fiat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! () fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature,
Possess it merely. I That it should come to this!
Bint two months dead!-nay, not so much, not two•
So excellent a king; that was, to this,
Hvperions to a satyr: so loving to my mother,
That he might not beteem|| the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Mu-t I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it feil on: Anil yet, within a month,--
Let me not think on’t; ---Frailty, thy naine is wo
A little month; or ere those shoes were old,
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears;-why she, eren she,--
Oljeaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourn'd longer-married with my
My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: Within a month:
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married:-0 most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good,