With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.

Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and

groan;

Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST, A. 3, s. 1.

LOVE, THE PURSUIT MAKES THE ROMANCE.

WORDS, VOWS, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice,

He offers in another's enterprize :

But more in Troilus thousand fold I see
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be ;
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing:
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing:
That she belov'd knows nought, that knows not
this,-

Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is :
That she was never yet, that ever knew
Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue:
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach,—
Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech:
Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 1, s. 2.

LOVE'S ANGUISH.

INJURIOUS Hermia! most ungrateful maid! Have you conspir'd, have you with these contriv'd

To bait me with this foul derision?

Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd,
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,-O, and is all forgot?

All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,

Have with our neelds created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporated. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet a union in partition;

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem :
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.
And will you rend our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
To follow me, and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Demetrius,

for it;

(Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,)
To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander
Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
And tender me, forsooth, affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What though I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate;
But miserable most, to love unlov'd?

This you should pity, rather than despise.
Ay, do, perséver, counterfeit sad looks,
Make mows upon me when I turn my back;
Wink at each other; hold the sweet jest up:
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled.
If you have any pity, grace, or manners,
You would not make me such an argument.
But, fare ye well: 'tis partly mine own fault;
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy.

MIDSUMMMER NIGHT'S DREAM, A. 3, s. 2.

LOVE'S APOLOGY FOR JEALOUSY. His company must do his minions grace, Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. Hath homely age the alluring beauty took From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it; Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. Do their gay vestments his affections bait ? That's not my fault, he's master of my state: What ruins are in me, that can be found By him not ruined? then is he the ground Of my defeatures: My decayed fair A sunny look of his would soon repair: But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale, And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; Or else, what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know, he promis'd me a chain ;— Would that alone, alone he would detain, So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! I see, the jewel best enamelled,

Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still,

That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold; and so no man that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die.

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 2, s. 1.

LOVE'S ATTRACTION.

THOU foolish thing!

They were again together: you have done
Not after our command. Away with her,
And pen her up.

CYMBELINE, A. 1, s. 2.

LOVE'S BANTERING.

ROSALIND. Come, sister, you shall be the priest, and marry us.-Give me your hand, Orlando:-What do you say, sister?

ORLANDO. Pray thee, marry us.

CELIA. I cannot say the words.

Ros. You must begin,-Will you, Orlando,CEL. Go to:-Will you, Orlando, have to

wife this Rosalind?

ORL. I will.

Ros. Ay, but when ?

ORL. Why now; as fast as she can marry us. Ros. Then you must say,-I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

ORL. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.

Ros. I might ask you for your commission;

but, I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: There a girl goes before the priest; and, certainly, a woman's thought runs before her actions.

ORL. So do all thoughts; they are winged. Ros. Now tell me, how long you would have her, after you have possessed her.

ORL. For ever, and a day.

Ros. Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.

ORL. But will my Rosalind do so?
Ros. By my life, she will do as I do,
ORL. O, but she is wise.

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the wiser, the waywarder: Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the keyhole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

AS YOU LIKE IT, A. 4, s. 1.

LOVE'S BIDDING.

MORTIMER. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
GLENDOWER. She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,