THE HEART THE TRUEST TIME-
KEEPER.

THE sun begins to gild the western sky:
And now, it is about the very hour

That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me.
She will not fail; for lovers break not hours,
Unless it be to come before their time;
So much they spur their expedition.

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 5, s. 1.

THE HENBANE OF MISMATCHES. AND thereof came it, that the man was mad: The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.

It

seems, his sleeps were hinder'd by the railing: And therefore comes it, that his head is light. Thou say'st, his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidings:

Unquiet meals make ill digestions,

Thereof the raging fire of fever bred;

And what's a fever but a fit of madness ?
Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy
brawls:

Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue,
But moody and dull melancholy,

(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair ;)
And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life?
In food, in sport, and life preserving rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast:
The consequence is then, thy jealous fits
Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits.

COMEDY OF ERRORS, A. 5, s. 1.

THE HEROIC LOVERS' MEETING.

O THOU day o'the world,

Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 4, s. 8.

THE HEROIC MOTHER.

CONSTANCE. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!

False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends!

Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those provinces ?

It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard;
Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again:
It cannot be; thou dost but say, 'tis so:
I trust, I may not trust thee; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man:
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a king's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick, and capable of fears;

Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;

A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears;

And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest,

With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day. What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?

What means that hand upon that breast of thine?

Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again; not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.
SALISBURY. As true, as, I believe,
you think

them false,

That give you cause to prove my saying true. CONST. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow,

Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die;
And let belief and life encounter so,
As doth the fury of two desperate men,
Which, in the very meeting, fall and die.-
Lewis marry Blanch! O, boy, then where art
thou?

France friend with England! what becomes of me ?

Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight;
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.
SAL. What other harm have I, good lady,
done,

But spoke the harm that is by others done? CONST. Which harm within itself so heinous is,

As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

ARTHUR. I do beseech you, madam, be con

tent.

CONST. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim,

Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crook'd, swart, prodigious,

Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks,

I would not care, I then would be content;
For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.
But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy,
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great:
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose: but fortune, O!
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs.
France is a bawd to fortune, and king John;
That strumpet fortune, that usurping John :-
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn?
Envenom him with words; or get thee gone,
And leave these woes alone, which I alone,
Am bound to under-bear.

I

SAL.

Pardon me, madam, may not go without you to the kings. CONST. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go with thee:

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud:
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up: here I and sorrow sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

[She throws herself on the ground.

Enter K. JOHN, K. PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, ELINOR, Bastard, AUSTRIA, and Attendants.

K. PHILIP. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day,

Ever in France shall be kept festival:

To solemnize this day, the glorious sun
Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist;
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearly course, that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holyday.

CONST. A wicked day, and not a holyday!

[Rising. What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done; That it in golden letters should be set, Among the high tides, in the kalendar? Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week; This day of shame, oppression, perjury: Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck; No bargains break, that are not this day made: This day, all things begun come to ill end; Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! K. PHI. By heaven, lady, you shall have no

cause

To curse the fair proceedings of this day.
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?

CONST. You have beguil'd me with a coun-
terfeit,

Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd and tried,

Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn; You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours : The grappling vigour and rough frown of war, Is cold in amity and painted peace,

And our oppression hath made up this league :Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings!