Dio. Your mercy, mother!

and from this hour a deity I crown you.

Delph. No more of that.

Max. Oh, let my prayers prevail too!

Here, like a tree, I dwell else: free me, mother, and, greater than great Fortune, I'll adore thee. Delph. Be free again, and have more pure thoughts in you. J. FLETCHER

823 Val.

R

VALENTINE-PROTEUS

UFFIAN let go that rude uncivil touch;
thou friend of an ill fashion!

Pro. Valentine!

Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love,for such is a friend now; treacherous man!

thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye
could have persuaded me: now I dare not say

I have one friend alive; thou would'st disprove me.
Who should be trusted, when one's right hand
is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus,

I am sorry, I must never trust thee more,

but count the world a stranger for thy sake.

The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst, 'mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst! Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me.-

Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow

be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer
as e'er I did commit.

Val. Then I am paid;

and once again I do receive thee honest.

824

W. SHAKESPEARE

VIRTUE AND ITS TRIALS

HERE may be one

young, learned, valiant, virtuous, and full mann'd ;

one, on whom nature spent so rich a hand,
that with an ominous eye she wept to see
so much consumed her virtuous treasury.
Yet as the winds sing through a hollow tree,
and since it lets them pass through, let it stand,

whilst a tree solid, since it gives no way

to their wild rage, they rend up by the root :
so this whole man,

that will not wind by every crooked way,

trod by the servile world, shall reel and fall,
before those frantic puffs of blind-born chance,
that pipe through empty men, and make them dance.
Not so the sea raves on the Libyan sands,
tumbling the billows on each other's neck;
not so the surges of the Euxine sea

near to the frosty pole, where free Bootes

from those dark deep waves turns his radiant team, swell, being enraged even from their inmost deep, as fortune swings about the restless state

of virtue.

G. CHAPMAN

825

Fer.

Mir.

FERDINAND-MIRANDA-PROSPERO

THIS

HIS is strange; your father's in some passion that works him strongly.

Never till this day saw I him touched with anger so distempered. Pro. You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort,

as if you were dismayed: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
as I foretold you, were all spirits, and
are melted into air, into thin air:
and, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
the solemn temples, the great globe itself,
yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
and, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
leave not a wreck behind. We are such stuff

as dreams are made on; and our little life

is rounded with a sleep.-Sir, I am vexed;

bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled: be not disturbed with my infirmity:

if you be pleased, retire into my cell,

and there repose; a turn or two I'll walk,
to still my beating mind.

W. SHAKESPEARE

826

827

Lo. La.

GE

KALED AND LARA

RIEF had so tamed a spirit once too proud,
her tears were few, her wailing never loud;
but furious would you tear her from the spot
where yet she scarce believed that he was not,
but left to waste her weary moments there,
she talk'd all idly unto shapes of air,
such as the busy brain of Sorrow paints,
and woos to listen to her fond complaints:
and she would sit beneath the very tree
where lay his drooping head upon her knee;
and in that posture where she saw him fall,
his words, his looks, his dying grasp recall;
herself would question, and for him reply;
then rising, start, and beckon him to fly
from some imagined spectre in pursuit;
then seat her down upon some linden's root,
and hide her visage with her meagre hand,
or trace strange characters along the sand-
this could not last she lies by him she loved;
her tale untold-her truth too dearly proved.

LOVER-LADY

LORD BYRON

T burneth yet, alas, my heart's desire

IT

What is the thing that hath inflamed thy heart? Lo. I cannot stop the fervent raging ire—

La. What may I do, if thyself cause thy smart?

Lo. Hear my request, and rue my weeping chere.

La. Thou seekest perchance of me that I may not.
Lo. Would God thou would'st as thou may'st well assent.
La. That I may not the grief is mine, God wot.
Lo. But I it feel, what so thy words have meant.
La. Suspect me not: my words be not forgot.
Lo. Then say, alas, shall I have help or no?

La. I see no time to answer yea, but no.

Lo. Say yea, dear heart, and stand no more in doubt.
La. I may not grant a thing that is so dear.

Lo. Lo with delays thou drivest me still about.
La. Thou would'st my death, it plainly doth appear.

Lo. First may my heart his blood and life bleed out.
La. Then for my sake, alas, thy will forbear.

Lo. From day to day thus wastes my life away,
La. Yet for the best suffer some small delay.

SIR T. WYATT

828 LAPIN BOASTING HIS SKILL IN MAGIC TO BYRON

829

ELL him this, my lord;

TELL

if knowledge of the sure events of things, even from the rise of subjects into kings, and falls of kings to subjects, hold a power of strength to work it, I can make it good. And tell him this too: if in midst of winter to make black groves grow green: to still the thunder; and cast out able flashes from mine eyes, to beat the light'ning back into the skies, prove power to do it, I can make it good. And tell him this too: if to lift the sea up to the stars, when all the winds are still, and keep it calm when they are most enrag'd; to make earth's driest palms sweat humourous springs; to make fix'd rocks walk, and loose shadows stand; to make the dead speak; midnight see the sun; mid-day turn midnight; to dissolve all laws

of nature and of order-argue power

able to work all, I can make all good;
and all this tell the king.

ANTONY-VENTIDIUS

G. CHAPMAN

HOU long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave.

Ant. I know thou cam'st prepared to rail. Vent. I did.

Ant. I'll help thee--I have been a man, Ventidius.
Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but-

Ant. I know thy meaning.

But, I have lost my reason, have disgraced
the name of soldier, with inglorious ease;
in the full vintage of my flowing honours,
sate still, and saw it prest by other hands;
fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it,
and purple greatness met my ripened years.
When first I came to empire, I was borne

on tides of people crowding to my triumphs;
the wish of nations; and the willing world
received me as its pledge of future peace;
I was so great, so happy, so beloved,
fate could not ruin me; till I took pains,

and worked against my fortune, chid her from me and turned her loose; yet still she came again. My careless days, and my luxurious nights,

at length have wearied her, and now she's gone, gone, gone, divorced for ever.

J. DRYDEN 830 MAX. PICCOLOMINI-THE COUNTESS TERTSKY

Max.

Count.

HIS can I not endure.

THIS

With most determined soul did I come hither, my purposed action seemed unblameable

to my own conscience-and I must stand here
like one abhorred, a hard inhuman being;
yea, loaded with the curse of all I love!
must see all whom I love in this sore anguish,
whom I with one word can make happy...O!
my heart revolts within me, and two voices
make themselves audible within my bosom.
My soul's benighted: I no longer can
distinguish the right track. O, well and truly
did'st thou say, father, I relied too much

on my own heart. My mind moves to and fro...
I know not what to do.

What! you know not? does not your own heart tell you? O! then

I'll tell it you. Your father is a traitor,

a frightful traitor to us! And 'tis yours

to make the amends-Make you the son's fidelity outweigh the father's treason.

S. T. COLERIDGE from Schiller

831 WALLENSTEIN-MAX. PICCOLOMINI

Wal.

OFT cradled thee thy Fortune till to-day;

SOFT

thy duties thou couldst exercise in sport,
indulge all lovely instincts, act for ever
with undivided heart. It can remain

no longer thus. Like enemies, the roads

start from each other. Duties strive with duties,