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Love increased by Attempts to suppress it.
JULIA. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love; Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow,
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. LUCETTA. I do not seek to quench your love's hot
But qualify the fire's extreme rage,
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
He makes sweet music with the enamell'd stones,
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;
And so by many winding nooks he strays,
Then let me go, and hinder not my course;
A faithful Lover.
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles;
Presents prevail with Woman.
Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
More than quick words do move a woman's mind.
Beauty petitioning in vain.
Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom, (Which unreversed, stands in effectual force), A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self; Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe; But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
Three Things in Man disliked by Women.
The Power of Poetry with Women.
Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews;
A Lover in Solitude.
How use doth breed a habit in a man!
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
What dangerous action, stood it next to death,
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approved,
Infidelity in a Friend.
Who should be trusted now, 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.
Who by repentance is not satisfied,
Is not of heaven nor earth.
Inconstancy in Man.
O heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect: that one error
Polixenes, King of Bohemia, is on a visit to his friend Leontes, King of Sicilia, and is about to take his leave, when he is induced, chiefly by the courteous solicitations of Hermione wife of Leontes, to prolong his visit. Suddenly Leontes, who has hitherto been a kind husband, changes his love for Hermione to the bitterest hate, orders her to prison, and commands Antigonus, a Sicilian lord, to take away her infant daughter, and leave the child exposed in a remote and desert place in Bohemia. An old shepherd finds the little princess and brings her up as his own child under the name of Perdita. When she has arrived at womanhood, she is encountered by Florizel, the son of Polixenes, and they become enamoured of each other, she being then supposed to be the daughter of the old shepherd. The play concludes with the discovery of the royal descent of Perdita, and Hermione (who for a number of years has been supposed to be dead, but who has been only in concealment) is restored to Leontes, who deeply repents of his cruel persecution of her.
Fondness of a Father for his Child.
If at home, sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirtli, my matter:
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy:
He makes a July's day short as December:
To do this deed,
Promotion follows; if I could find example
Eloquence of silent Innocence.
The silence often of pure innocence Persuades, when speaking fails.
Exposing an Infant.
Come on, poor babe :
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens,
Innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience.