Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone
Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

OTHELLO.

K

KING STEPHEN.

ING Stephen was a worthy peer,
His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he called the tailor lown.

He was a wight of high renown,

And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis pride that pulls the country down,
Then tak thy auld cloak about thee.*

* An English version of the old ballad (supposed to have been originally Scotch) from which these stanzas are taken will be found in Percy's Reliques, i. 153, ed. 1844.

THE WILLOW SONG.

THE poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow;

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:

The fresh streams ran by her, and murmured her moans;
Her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones;
Sing willow, willow, willow;

Sing all a green willow must be my garland.*

KING LEAR.

THE FOOL'S SONG.

FOOLS had ne'er less grace in a year;
For wise men are grown foppish;
And know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish.

Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,

That such a king should play bo-peep,
the fool among.

And

go

*This is the opening verse of an old ballad adapted to Desdemona by changing the sex of the forsaken lover. The following are the words of the original:

'A poor soul sat sighing under a sycamore tree;

'O willow, willow, willow!'

With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee;

'O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garland.''

The whole ballad is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys' Collection by Bishop Percy.-Reliques, i. 156. For the first Willow Song, see ante, p. 25.

MACBETH.

THE WITCHES' RENDEZVous.

1 Witch. WH

HEN shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain? 2 Witch. When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won: 3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun. I Witch. Where the place?

2 Witch.

Upon the heath; 3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.

I Witch. I come, Grimalkin!*

All. Paddock† calls:-Anon.—

I Witch.

2 Witch.

3 Witch.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair;
Hover through the fog and filthy air.

THE CHARM.

THRICE the brinded‡ cat hath mewed.

Thrice; and once the hedgehog whined. Harpier cries :-'Tis time, 'tis time. I Witch. Round about the caldron go: In the poisoned entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone, Days and nights hath thirty-one, Sweltered venom sleeping got, Boil thou first in the charmed pot! All. Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire, burn; and, caldron, bubble.

2 Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake,

In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog;
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog;
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting;
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing;

* A cat.

† A toad.

+ Fierce.

For a charm of powerful trouble;
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
All. Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and, caldron, bubble.

3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw, and gulf
Of the ravened salt sea-shark;
Root of hemlock, digged i' the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew,
Silvered in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe,
Ditch-delivered by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab;
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,*
For the ingredients of our caldron.
All. Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire, burn; and, caldron, bubble.

2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

APEMANTUS'S GRACE.

IMMORTAL gods, I crave no pelf;
I pray for no man but myself:
Grant I may never prove so fond,
To trust man on his oath or bond,
Or a harlot for her weeping;
Or a dog that seems a sleeping;
Or a keeper with my freedom;
Or my friends, if I should need 'em.
Amen. So fall to't:

Rich men sin, and I eat root.

* Entrails.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

он! он! - НА! НА!

LOVE, love, nothing but love, still more!

For, oh, love's bow

Shoots buck and doe:
The shaft confounds,
Not that it wounds,

But tickles still the sore.

These lovers cry-Oh! oh! they die!
Yet that which seems the wound to kill,
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he!
So dying love lives still:

Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha!
Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha!

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

BACCHANALIAN ROUND.

COME, thou monarch of the vine,
Plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne:
In thy vats our cares be drowned;
With thy grapes our hairs be crowned;
Cup us, till the world go round;
Cup us, till the world go round!

BEN JONSON.

1574-1637.

[AFTER Shakespeare's songs all others appear to disadvantage. He shows an instinctive knowledge of the secret of this kind of writing as of everything else. His songs possess in perfection all the essential elements of gaiety and tenderness, facility and grace, idiomatic purity, melody in the expression,

THE DRAMATISTS.

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