Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.
I have more care to stay, than will to go.
Come death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.-
How is't, my soul? let's talk, it is not day.
Juliet's Resolution.

O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower;
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring
Or shut me nightly in a charnel house; [bears;
O'ercover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud-
Things that to hear them told have made me
tremble;

And I will do it without fear or doubt,
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.
Juliet's Soliloquy on drinking the Potion.
Farewell-God knows when we shall meet
again!

I have a faint cold fear thrills thro' my veins,
That almost freezes up the heat of life:
I'll call them back again to comfort me.-
Nurse!-what should she do here?
My dismal scene I needs must act alone:
Come, phial.-What if this mixture do not
work at all?

Must I of force be married to the county?
No, no! this shall forbid it-lie thou there.
[Pointing to a dagger.
What if it be a poison, which the friar
Subtly hath minister'd, to have me dead;
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonor'd,
Because he married me before to Romeo?
I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,
For he hath still been tried a holy man:
I will not entertain so bad a thought.-
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!
Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, [in,
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes?
Or, if I live, is it not very like
The horrible conceit of death and night,
Together with the terror of the place-
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones
Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd;
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth,
Lies fest ring in his shroud; where, as they say,
At some hours in the night spirits resort-
Alack! alack! is it not like that I

So early waking-what with loathsome smells;
And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad-
O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught,
Invironed with all these hideous fears?
And madly play with my forefathers' joints?
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud?
And in this rage, with some great kinsman's
bone,

As with a club, dash out my desp'rate brains?
O look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost
Secking out Romeo, that did spit his body

Upon a rapier's point!-Stay, Tybalt, stay!
Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.

[She throws herself on the Bed.
Joy and Mirth turned to their contraries.
All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells;
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change:
Our bridal flow'rs serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary,
Romeo's Description of, and Discourse with,
the Apothecary.

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means:--O mischief! thou art swift

To enter in the thoughts of desperate men.
I do remember an apothecary—
And hereabouts he dwells-whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins,
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said-
An if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
O, this same thought did but fore-run my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house:
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
What, ho! apothecary!

Enter Apothecary.

Ap. Who calls so loud?
Rom. Come hither, man-I see that thou
art poor;

Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer,
As will disperse itself through all the veins,
That the life-weary taker may fall dead;
And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath
As violently, as hasty powder fir'd
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Man-
tua's law

Is death to any he that utters them.

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretch

edness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks; Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes; Upon thy back hangs ragged misery; The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law: The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents. Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will, And drink it off; and, if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,

And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart,
To bring it into danger.

Without the Walls of Athens.

Timon's Execrations on the Athenians.
Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall,
That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth,
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incon-
tinent !

Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools,
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench,
And minister in their steads! to general filths
Convert o' the instant, green virginity!
Do't in your parents' eyes! Bankrupts, hold fast;
Rather than render back, out with your knives,
And cut your trusters' throats! Bound servants,
steal!

Large-handed robbers your grave masters are,
And pill by law! Maid, to thy master's bed;
Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of sixteen,
Pluck the lin'd crutch from thy old limping sire,
With it beat out his brains! Piety and fear,
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth,
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood,
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades,
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws,
Decline to your confounding contraries, [men,
And yet confusion live!-Plagues incident to
Your potent and infectious fevers heap
On Athens, ripe for stroke!--Thou cold sciatica,
Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt
As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth;
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,
And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains,
Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop
Be general leprosy! breath infect breath;
That their society, as their friendship, may
Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,
But nakedness, thou detestable town!

A Friend forsaken.

As we do turn our backs From our companion thrown into his grave, So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away; leave their false vows with him,

Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor self,
A dedicated beggar to the air,

With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,
Walks, like contempt, alone.

On Gold.

And give them title, knee, and approbation,
With senators on the bench: this is it
That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;
She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To the April day again. Come, damned earth,
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st
odds

Among the rout of nations, I will make thee
Do thy right nature.
Timon to Alcibiades.
Go on-here's gold-go on;
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove
Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison
In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:
Pity not honor'd age for his white beard;
He is an usurer. Strike me the counterfeit

matron;

It is her habit only that is honest,
Herself's a bawd. Let not the virgin's cheek
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk
paps,

That thro' the window-bars bore at men's eyes,
Are not within the leaf of pity writ;
But set them down horrible traitors. Spare
not the babe,
[mercy.
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their
Think it a bastard, whom the oracle
Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut,
And mince it sans remorse. Swear against ob-
jects;

Put armor on thine ears and on thine eyes, Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,

Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy sol

diers:

Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,
Confounded be thyself! speak not, begone.
To the Courtezans.
Consumptions sow

In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins,
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's
That he may never more false title plead, [voice,
Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen,
That scolds against the quality of flesh,
And not believes himself: down with the nose,
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him that, his particular to foresee,
Smells from the gen'ral weal: make curl'd-
pate ruffians bald,

And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive some pain from you.

Timon's Reflections on the Earth.
That nature, being sick of man's unkindness,
Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou,
Whose womb unineasurable, and infinite breast
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puit,
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue,
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm,
With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven,
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine;
Yield hini, who all thy human sons doth hate,
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root:
Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb!
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man!

Hath to the marble mansion all above
Never presented!-O, a root-dear thanks!
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn
leas,
[draughts,
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind,
That from it all consideration slips!

Timon's Discourse with Apemantus.
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected:
A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this
place?

This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
Thy flatt'rers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatt'rer now, and seek to thrive
By that which hath undone thee: hinge thy
knee,

And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent. Thou wast told thus ;
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid
welcome

To knaves, and all approachers: 'tis most just That thou turn rascal; hadst thon wealth again, Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. [self. Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myApem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being

like thyself,

A madman so long, now a fool: what, think'st That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd

Whose naked natures live in all the spite
Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused
trunks,

To the conflicting elements expos'd,
Answer mere nature-bid them flatter thee;
O! thou shalt find-

Tim. Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm

With favor never clasp'd; but bred a dog. Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath, proceeded

The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd
thyself

In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary,
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts

of men

At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak-have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare,
For every storm that blows:-1, to bear this,
That never knew but better, is some burthen.
Thy nature did commence in sufferance; time
Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou
hate men?
[given?
They never flatter'd thee. What hast thou
If thou wilt curse,-thy father, that poor rag,
Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff
To some she-beggar, and compounded thee
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! begone.
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men;
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.
On Gold.

O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce
[Looking on the gold.
'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler
Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars!
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate

[springs; Within this mile break forth an hundred The oaks bear masts, the briers scarlet hips; The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want! why

grape,

Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth,
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob: take wealth and lives to-
gether;

Do villany, do, since you profess to do't,
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen
From gen'ral excrement: each thing's a thief;
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough

pow'r

Forgive my gen'ral and exceptless rashness,
Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man-mistake me not-but one;
No more, I pray and he is a steward.
How fain would I have hated all mankind,
And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee,
I fell with curses.

Methinks, thou art more honest now than wise;
For, by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou mightst have sooner got another service:
For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord's neck.

Wrong and Insolence.

No breathless wrong

Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease; And pursy insolence shall break his wind With fear, and horrid flight.

The birds chant melody on every bush; The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun; The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground: Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit;

And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,

Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once-
Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise:
And after conflict-such as was suppos'd
The wand'ring prince and Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave-
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber!
Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodi-
Be unto us as is a nurse's song [ous birds,

Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep.
Vale, a dark and melancholy one described.
A barren detested vale, you see, it is:
The trees, tho' summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O'ercome with moss, and baleful misseltoe.
Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven.
And when they show'd me this abhorred pit,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,
Would make such fearful and confused cries,

As any mortal body, hearing it,
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.
A Ring in a dark Pit.

Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole;
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead inan's earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit.
Young Lady playing on a Lute and singing.
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sew'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss
them;
[life:
He would not then have touch'd them for his
Or had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropt his knife, and fell asleep,
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
A Lady's Tongue cut out.

O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence,

Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage;
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!
A person in Despair compared to one on a Rock,
&'c.

For now I stand as one upon a rock,
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; [wave,
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him.

Tears compared to Dew on a Lily. When I did name her brothers, then fresh

Revenge.

Lo, by thy side, where rape and murderstands; Now give some surauce that thou art revenge, Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; And then I'll come, and be thy waggoner, And whirl along with thee about the globe. Provide thee two proper palfries, black as jet, To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, And find out murderers in their guilty caves: And, when thy car is loaden with their heads, I will dismount, and by the waggon wheel Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; Even from Hyperion's rising in the east, Until his very downfall in the sea.