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Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with
comforts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow; Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The son, the husband, and the father, tearing His country's bowels out. And to poor we, Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr’st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy.
We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win: for either thou Must, as a foreign recreant, be led With manacles thorough our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin; And bear the palm, for having bravely shed Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune, till These wars determine*: if I cannot persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts, Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country, than to tread, (Trust to't, thou shalt not) on thy mother's womb, That brought thee to this world.
PEACE AFTER A SIEGE.
Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you; The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance.
THE BASENESS OF FALSEHOOD TO A WIFE.
Doubting things go ill, often hurts more
Had I this cheek
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit, That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt.
* What you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold.
Imo. Away!—I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee.
Thou should'st have made him
Madam, so I did
Be assurd, madam, With his next vantage*.
Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours, Such thoughts and such ; or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest, and his honour! or have charg'd him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, To encounter me with orisons t, for then I am in heaven for him: or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing.
Imogen reading in her Bed; a Lady attending.
Mine eyes are weak :Fold down the leaf where I have left: To bed : * Opportunity.
+ Meet me with reciprocal prayer.
Take not away the taper, leave it burning ;
[Sleeps. IACHIMO, from the Trunk. Tach. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labourd Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus (sense Did softly press the rushes * ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded.—Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss!-Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't.—'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper Bows towards her; and would underpeep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd With blue of heaven's own tinctt.-But my design? To note the chamber:-I will write all down:Such, and such, pictures ;—There the window:-Such The adornment of her bed ;—The arras I, figures, Why, such, and such:-And the contents o' the story, Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner movcables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory: O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying !-Come off, come off ;
[Taking off her Bracelet. As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast
* It was anciently the custom to strew'chambers with rushes, + i.e. The white skin laced with blue veins. # Tapestry.
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
[Goes into the Trunk.' The Scene closes.
'Tis gold Which buys admittance; oft it doth ; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief; Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man: What Can it not do, and undo?
A SATIRE ON WOMEN.
Is there no way for men to be, but women Must be half-workers? We are bastards all; And that most venerable man, which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit; Yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time: so doth my wife The nonpareil of this.-0 vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd, And pray'd me, oft, forbearance: did it with A pudency * so rosy, the sweet view on't Might well have warm’d old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunn'd snow: