Have of your audience been mot free and bounteous.
If it be fo, as fo 'tis put on me,

And that in way of caution, I muft tell you,
You do not understand yourself so clearly
As it behoves my daughter and your honour.
What is between you? Give me up the truth.

Oph. He hath, my Lord, of late, made many tenders Of his affection to me.

Pol. Affection! puh! you fpeak like a green girl, Unfifted in fuch perilous circumftance.

Do you believe his tenders, as you call them?

Opb. I do not know, my Lord, what I fhould think: Pol. Marry, I'll teach you. Think yourself a baby, That you have ta'en his tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourfelf more dearly; Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Wronging it thus) you'll tender me a fool.

Oph. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with love, In honourable fashion,

Pol, Ay, fashion you may call it indeed

-Go to.

Oph. And hath giv'n count'nance to his fpeech, my Lord,

With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Pol. Ay, fprings to catch woodcocks, I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul

Lends the tongue vows. These blazes, oh ! my daughter
Giving more light than heat, extinct in both,
Ev'n in their promife, as it is a making,
You must not take for fire. From this time,
Be fomewhat fcanter of thy maiden presence;

Set your intreatments at a higher rate
Than a command to parley. In few, Ophelia,
Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers,
Not of that dye which their investments fhew,
But mere implorers of unholy fuits,

The better to beguile. This is for all:

I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth,
Have you fo flander any moment's leisure,

As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet.
Look to't, I charge you. Come your way.
Oph. I fhall obey, my Lord.

BETWEEN COMUS AND THE LADY.

FROM THE MASQUE OF COMUS.

Spirit. From the realms of peace above, From the fource of heav'nly love,

From the starry throne of Jove,
Where tuneful mufes, in a glitt'ring ring,
To the celelial lyre's eternal ftring,
Patient virtue's triumph fing;

To thefe dim labyrinths, where mortals ftray,
Maz'd in paffion's pathlefs way,

To fave thy purer breaft from spot and blame
Thy guardian fpirit came.

SONG:

Nor on beds of fading flowers,

Shedding foon their gaudy pride;
Nor with fwains in fyren bowers,

Will true pleafure long refide.

On awful virtue's hill fublime,

Enthroned fits th' immortal fair;

Who wins her height, muft patient climb;
The steps are peril, toil and care.
So from the first did Jove ordain,
Eternal blifs for tranfient pain.

[Exit the Spirit, the mufic playing loud and folemn.

Lady. Thanks, heav'nly fongfler! whofoe'er thou

art,

Who deign't to enter these unhallow'd walls,
To bring the fong of virtue to mine ear!

O cease not, ceafe not the melodious strain,
Till my rapt foul high on the swelling note
To heav'n afcend-

-far from these horrid fiends!

Comus. Mere airy dreams of air-bred people thefe ; Who look with envy on more happy man!

Drink this, and you will scorn fuch idle tales.

[He offers the cup, which she puts by and attempts to rife.

Nay, lady, fit; if I but wave this wand,

Your nerves are all bound up in alabaster, And you a ftatue: " or, as Daphne was, • Root-bound, that fled Apollo.'

Lady. Fool, do not boat;

Thou can't not touch the freedom of my mind,
With all thy charms, altho' this corp'ral rind

Thou haft immanacl'd while heav'n fees good.

Comus. Why are you vex'd, lady? why do you frown Here dwell no frowns nor anger; from these

L6

gates

Sor

Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts;
And, firft behold this cordial julep here,
That flames and dances in his crystal bounds.

Lady. Know, base deluder, that I will not taste it. Keep thy detested gifts for such as thefe.

[Points to his crew,

Comus. Why fhou'd you be fo cruel to yourself, And to thofe dainty limbs, which Nature lent For gentle ufage and foft delicacy;

That have been tir'd all day withou repast,

And timely rest have wanted? But, fair virgin,
This will reftore all foon.

Lady. "Twill not, false traitor !

"Twill not restore the truth and honefty

That thou hast banish'd from thy tongue with lies.

Was this the cottage, and the fafe abode

Thou told'ft me of? Hence with thy brew'd enchant

ments.

Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets,

I wou'd not taste thy treas'nous offer-None,
But fuch as are good men, can give good things;
And that which is not good, is not delicious
To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.

SCENE

SCENE FROM THE MERCHANT OF

VENICE.

BETWEEN LORENZO AND JESSICA.

Lor. How fweet the moonlight fleeps upon this bank!

Here will we fit, and let the founds of mufic
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night
Become the touches of fweet harmony.
Sit, Jeffica look, how the floor of heav'n

Is thick inlay'd with patterns of bright gold;
There's not the fmalleft orb, which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel fings,

Sill quiring to the young ey'd cherubims:
Such harmony is in immortal founds!
But whilft this mufty vefture of decay

Doth grofsly clofe us in, we cannot hear it.

Jes. I'm never merry when I hear sweet music. [Mufic Lor. The reafon is, your spirits are attentive; For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled cofts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, (Which is the hot condition of their blood) If they perchance but hear a trumpet found,

Or

any

air of mufic touch their ears,

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand;