As many other manish cowards have,
That do outface it with their semblances.

ACT II.

SOLITUDE PREFERRED TO a court LiFE, AND THE ADVANTAGES OF ADVERSITY.

Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference; as the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity;

Which, like the toad, ugly and venemous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

REFLECTIONS ON THE WOUNDED STAG.

Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,Being native burghers of this desert city,Should, in their own confines, with forked heads,* Have their round haunches gor'd.

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord,

The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish: and, indeed, my lord,
* Barbed arrows.

The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

Duke S.

But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle?

1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping in the needless stream; Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much: Then, being alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; 'Tis right, quoth he; this misery doth part The flux of company; Anon, a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jaques, Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?

GRATITUDE IN AN OLD SERVANT.

But do not so: I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown;
Take that: and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you: let me be your servant;
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty:
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood:
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you;`

I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.

DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER.

O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily:
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,
Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,
Thou hast not lov'd:

Or if thou hast not broke from company,
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me,
Thou hast not lov'd.

DESCRIPTION OF A FOOL, AND HIS MORALIZING ON

TIME.

Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he,
Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune:
And then he drew a dial from his poke;
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock:

Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;
And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative;
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial-O noble fool!

A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.*
Duke S. What fool is this?

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a courtier;

And says if ladies be but young, and fair,

They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit

* The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured

coat.

THE

BEAUTIES

OF

SHAKSPEARE.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

ACT I.

ADVICE.

BE thou blest Bertram! and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! Thy blood, and virtue, Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.

TOO AMBITIOUS LOVE.

I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion, Must die for love. Twas pretty, though a plague To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,