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True Love.

Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me:
For, such as I am, all true lovers are ;
Unstaid and skittish in all motion else,
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is beloved.

The Wife should be Younger than the Husband.
Let still the woman take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.

Character of an Old Song.

Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,

And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones,*

Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,†

And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.


Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it;


† Simple truth.

My part of death no one so true
Did share it.


Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corpse, where my

bones shall be thrown.

A thousand thousands sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover ne'er find my grave
Το weep there.

Viola, attired as a Page, speaks of her concealed Love for the Duke.

VIOLA. Ay, but I know,—

DUKE. What dost thou know?

VIOLA. TOO well what love women to men may owe:

In faith, they are as true of heart as we.

My father had a daughter lov'd a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.

DUKE. And what's her history?

VIOLA. A blank, my lord: She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,

Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought,
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.


A Jester.

This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit;
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons and the time;

And, like the haggard,* check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,

As full of labour as a wise man's art:

For folly, that he wisely shews, is fit;
But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit.
Unsought Love.

Cesario, by the roses of the spring,
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing,
I love thee so, that maugre† all thy pride,
Nor wit, nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause ;
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter:
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.



Valentine and Proteus, the two gentlemen of Verona, are in love severally with Silvia, daughter of the Duke of Milan, and Julia, a lady of Verona. Valentine leaves Verona for the court of Milan, where he is joined by Proteus, Julia following her lover in male attire. Proteus proves inconstant and becomes enamoured of Silvia, whose intended elopement and marriage with Valentine + Notwithstanding.

* A hawk not properly trained.

he betrays to her father the Duke, who designs to wed her to Thurio an empty braggart. On discovering this the Duke banishes Valentine from his dominions, who, journeying towards Mantua, encounters in a forest certain outlaws, who make him their captain. After Valentine's exile, Proteus, dissembling his love for Silvia, promises the Duke to urge her to accept Thurio; she rejects both suitors and follows Valentine, on whom her father at length bestows her. The treachery of Proteus being discovered, he becomes repentant, and is pardoned by Julia, who accepts him as her husband. The more serious parts of the play are relieved by the comic scenes in which Speed and Launce, servants to Valentine and Proteus, appear.

Аст I.

Love Commended and Censured.

PROTEUS. Yet writers say, As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

VALENTINE. And writers say,. 7, As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow,

Even so by love the young and tender wit
Is turn'd to folly; blasting in the bud,
Losing his verdure even in the prime,
And all the fair effects of future hopes.

Love Froward and Dissembling.

Maids, in modesty say "No" to that
Which they would have the profferer construe Aye.
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love;
That, like a testy babe will scratch the nurse,
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod !

Advantage of Travelling.

He cannot be a perfect man,

Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world;

Experience is by industry achieved,
And perfected by the swift course of time.

Lone compared to an April day.

O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,
And by and bye a cloud takes all away!


An accomplished young Gentleman.

His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe ;
And, in a word (for far behind his worth
Come all the praises that I now bestow),
He is complete in feature, and in mind,
With all good grace to grace a gentleman.

Contempt of Love punished.

I have done penance for contemning love;
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,

With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,

Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes,

And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.

O, gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord,

And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,

There is no woe to his correction,

Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth!

Now, no discourse, except it be of love;

Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,

Upon the

very naked name of love.


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