Elegant Extracts

Labour. Wearinefs

Can fnore upon the flint, when refty floth Finds the down pillow hard.

Harmless Innocence.

Imo. Good mafters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: good troth, [ found I have ftolen nought; nor would not, tho' I had

Gold ftrew'd o'th' floor. Here's money for my meat:

I would have left it on the board, fo foon
As I had made my meal, and parted
With prayers for the provider.
Guid. Money, youth?

Arv. All gold and filver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those
Who worship dirty gods.

Thou divine nature, how thyfelf thou blazon’st In thefe two princely boys! they are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet,

Not wagging his fweet head; and yet as rough,
Their royal blood enchaf 'd, as the rud'ft wind,
That by the top doth take the mountain pine,
And make him ftocp to the vale. 'Tis wonderfu!
That an invifible iuftin&t fhould frame them
To royalty unlearn'd; honour untaught;
Civility not feen from other; valour,

That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop
As if it had been fow'd!

Enter Arviragus, with Imogen dead, bearing her in bis Arms.

Bel. Look, here he comes,

And brings the dire occafion in his arms,
Of what we blame him for!

Arv. The bird is dead

[put

His arms thus leagued: I thought he flept; and
My clouted brogues from off my feet, whofe rude-
Antwer'd my steps too loud.
[nefs

Guid. Why, he but fleeps:

If he be gone, he 'll make his grave a bed;

With female fairies will his tomb be haunted,
And worms will not come to thee.

Arv. With fairest flowers,

While fummer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll fweeten thy fad grave: thou shalt not lack
The flow'r, that 's like thy face, pale primrofe; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins, no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to flander,
With charitable bill (O bill fore fhaming
Out-fweeten'd not thy breath; the ruddock would

Thofe rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument !) bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flow'rs are
To winter-ground thy corfe.--

[none,

Bel. Great griefs, I fee, med'cine the lefs: for

Cloten

Is quite forgot. He was a queen's fon, boys; And, though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that: though mean and mighty Together have one duft; yet reverence [rotting (That angel of the world) doth make diftinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely;

And though you took his life, as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince.

Guid. Pray you fetch him hither. Therfites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive.

Funeral Dirge.

Guid. Fear no more the heat o' the fun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task haft done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all muft,

As chimney-fweepers, come to duft.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art paft the tyrant's stroke,
Care no more to clothe, and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The fceptre, learning, phyfic, muft
All follow this, and come to duft.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-ftone;
Guid. Fear no flander, cenfure rash;
Arv. Thou haft finifh'd joy and moan.

Guid.

Imogen awaking.

Yes, Sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the

I thank you-by yond bufh?-pray, how far

thither

Ods, pitikins!—can it be fix miles yet? [fleep. have gone all night-'faith, I'll lie down and

But

But foft! no bedfellow :-O gods and goddeffes! | The nights are wholefome; then no planets strike, [Seeing the body. No fairy takes, nor witch hath pow'r to charm,

These flow'rs are like the pleasures of the world; So hallow'd and fo gracious is the time.

This bloody man, the care on 't. I hope I dream;
For, fo, I thought I was a cave-keeper,
And cook to honeft creatures: but 'tis not fo;
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, fhot at nothing,
Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes

Are fometimes like our judgments, blind. Good
I tiemble still with fear: but if there be [faith,
Yet left in heaven as fmall a drop of pity
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!
The dream 's here ftill: even when I wake, it is
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt
Routed Army.

No blame be to you, Sir; for all was loft,
But that the heavens fought: the king himfelf
Of his wings deftitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons feen, all flying
Thro a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with flaught'iing, having work
More plentiful than tools to do 't, ftruck down
Some mortally, fome flightly touch'd, fome falling
Merely through fear; that the ftraight pafs was

damm'd

With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd fhame.

IN the most high and palmy ftate of Rome,
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

The
graves food tenantlefs, and the theeted dead
Did fqueak and gibber in the Roman ftrects;
Stars thone with trains of fire; dews of blood fell;
Difafters veil'd the fun; and the moift ftar,
Upon whofe influence Neptune's empire stands,
Was fick almoft to doomfday with eclipfe.
Ghofts vanish at the crowing of the Cock; and the

Reverence paid to Chriflmas-Time.
Ber. Itwas about to fpeak, when the cock crew.
Hor. And then it started like a guilty thing,
Upon a fearful fummons. I have heard,
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and fhrill-founding throat
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
Whether in fea or fire, in carth or air,
Th' extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine: and of the truth herein,
This prefent object made probation.

Mar. It faded at the crowing of the cock.
Some fay, that ever 'gainft that feafon comes,
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning fingeth all night long:
And then, they fay, ho fpirit walks abroad;

Morning.

But, look, the morn, in ruffet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Real Grief.

Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not feems.
Nor customary fuits of folemn black,
Nor windy fufpiration of forc'd breath,
Nor the dejected haviour of the vifage,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Together with all forms, modes, thews of grief,
That can denote me truly: thefe, indeed, feem,
For they are actions that a man night play:
But I have that within, which pafleth show;
Thefe, but the trappings and the fuits of woe.
Immoderate Grief discommended.

'Tis fweet and commendable in your nature,
Hamlet,

But, you must know, your father loft a father;
To give thefe mourning duties to your father:
That father lot, loft his; and the furvivor bound,
To do obfequious forrow. But to perfever
In filial obligation, for fome term
In obftinate condolement, is a courfe
Of impious ftubbornnefs; 'tis unmanly grief;
It fhews a will most incorrect to Heaven;
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient;
An understanding fimple and untchool'd:
For what, we know, muft be, and is as common
As any the moft vulgar thing to fenfe,
Why thould we, in our peevith oppofition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to Heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reafon most abfurd; whofe common theme
Is death of fathers, and who fill hath cried,
From the first corfe till he that died to-day,
This muft be fo.

Hamlet's Soliloquy on bis Mother's Marriage.
O, that this too, too folid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and refolve itfelf into a dew!
Or that the Everlafting had not fix'd
His cannon 'gainft felf-flaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, ftale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the ufes of this world!
Fie on 't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to feed; things rank and grofs in

nature

Poffefs it merely. That it fhould come to this!
But two months dead! nay, not fo much, not two:
So excellent a king; that was, to this,

Hyperion to a fatyr: fo loving to my mother,
That he might not betcem the winds of caven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Muft I remember?-why, he would hang on him,
As if incre: fe of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month-
Let me not think on't-frailty, thy name is

O Heaven! a beaft that wants difcourfe of reafon,
Would have mourn 'd longer-married with mine
uncle,

My father's brother; but no more like my father,
Than I to Hercules: within a month;
Ere yet the falt of moft unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married: O most wicked fpeed, to poft
With fuch dexterity to incestuous fheets!
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good.
A complete Man.

He was a man, take him for all in all,
I fhall not look upon his like again.
Cautions to young Ladies.

For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, fweet, not lasting,
The perfume and fuppliance of a minute;
No more.-

Hamlet, on the Appearance of bis Father's Ghoft.
Angels and minifters of grace, defend us!
Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damn'd,
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blafts from
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, [hell,
Thou com'ft in fuch a questionable fhape,
That I will fpeak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet,
King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me:
Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell,
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearfed in death,
Have burft their cerements? why the fepulchre,
Wherein we faw thee quietly inurn'd,
Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws,
To caft thee up again? What may this mean,
That thou, dead corfe, again, in complete steel,
Revifit ft thus the glimpies of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,
So horridly to fhake our difpofition
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our fouls?
The Mifchiefs it might tempt him to.
What if it tempt you towards the flood, my lord,
to the dreadful fummit of the cliff,
That beetles o'er his bafe into the fea?
And there affume fome other horrible form,
Which might deprive your fovereignty of reason,
And draw you into madness! Think of it:
The very place puts toys of defperation,
Without more motive, into ev'ry brain,
That looks fo many fathoms to the fea,
And hears it roar beneath.

Then weigh what lofs your honour may fuftain,Or
If with too credent ear you lift his fongs;
Or lofe your heart; or your chafte treature open
To his unmafter'd importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear fifter;
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the fhot and danger of defire.
The charieft maid is prodigal enough,
If the unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itfelf 'fcapes not calumnious strokes :
The canker galls the infants of the spring
Too oft before their buttons be difclos'd;
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blaftments are most imminent.

A Satire on ungracious Paflors.

I fhall th' effects of this good letion keep
As watchmen to my heart: but, good my brother,
Do not, as fome ungracious pafters do,
Shew me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whilft, like a puft and reckless libertine,
Himfelf the primrofe paths of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own read.

A Father's Advice to his Son, going to travel.
Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hatt, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy foul with hooks of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,
Bear it, that the oppofer inay beware of thee.
Give ev'ry man thine car, but few thy voice:
Take cach man's cenfure, but referve thy judg-|
Coftly thy habit as thy purfe can buy,
But not exprefs'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy:.
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a bortower, nor a lender be:
For loan oft lofes both itfelf and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all, to thine own felf be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be falfe to any min.

[ment.

Enter Ghoft and Hamlet.

Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me? fpeak, I'H
Ghaft. Mark mic.

Hom. I will,

Ghoft. My hour is almoft come,

[go no further.

When I to fulphurous and tormenting flames
Muft render up mylelf.

Ham. Alas, poor ghost!

Gheft. Pity me not, but lend thy ferious hearing To what I fhall unfold.

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear.

[hear.

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou fhalt
Ham. What?

Ghoft. I am thy father's fpirit;
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night,
And, for the day, confin'd to faft in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature,
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid
To teil the fecrets of my prifon-house,

I could a tale unfold, whofe lighteft word
Would harrow up thy foul; freeze thy young blood;
Make thy two eyes, like ftars, start from their
Spheres ;

Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And cach particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine:
But this eternai blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood: Lift, lift, O lift!
If thou didst ever thy dear father love-
Ham. O Heaven
[murder.
Ghoft. Revenge his foul and most unnatural
Hum. Murder '

Gh. Murder moft foul, as in the best it is;
But this moft foul, ftrange, and unnatural.

Ham.

Ham. O, my prophetic foul! my uncle?
Gooft. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beaft,
With witchcraft of his wit, with trait'rous gifts,
(O wicked wits and gifts, that have the pow'r
So to feduce!) won to his fhameful luft
The will of my moft feeming-virtuous queen:
O Hamlet, what a falling off was there!,
From me, whofe love was of that dignity,
That it went hand in hand even with the vow
I made to her in marriage; and to decline
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor
To thofe of mine!

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Tho' lewdnefs court it in a fhape of Heaven;
So luft, tho' to a radiant angel link'd,
Will fate itfelf in a celeftial bed,

And prey on garbage..

But, foft methinks, I fcent the morning air;-
Brief let me be: fleeping within mine orchard,
My cuftom always of the afternoon,
Upon my fecure hour thy uncle stole,
With juice of curfed hebenon in a vial,
And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous diftilment; whofe effect
Holds fuch an enmity with blood of man,
That, fwift as quickfilver, it courses through
The natural gates and alleys of the body;
And, with a fidden vigour, it doth poffet
And curd, like eager droppings into milk,
The thin and wholefome blood: fo did it mine;
And a moft inftant tetter bark'd about,
Moft lazar-like, with vile and loathfome cruft,
All my fmooth body.

Thus was I, fleeping, by a brother's hand,
Of life, of crown, of queen at once difpatch'd:
Cut off even in the bloffoms of my fin,
Unhoufel'd, difappointed, unanel'd;
No reckoning made, but fent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head:
O horrible! O horrible! moft horrible!
If thou haft nature in thee, bear it not;
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be
A couch for luxury and damned inceft.
But how foever thou purfueft this act,
Taint not thy mind, nor let thy foul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to Heaven,
And to thofe thorns that in her bofom lodge,
To prick and fting her. Fare thee well at once!
The glow-worm thews the matin to be near,
And gins to pale his uneffectual fire:
Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.

[Exit.

Ham. O, all you hoft of heaven! O earth! what else?

And fhall I couple hell? O fie! hold, hold, my

heart!

And you, my finews, grow not inftant old,
But bear me ftiffly up! Remember thee ?
Ay, thou poor Ghoft, while memory holds a feat
In this diftracted globe. Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records,
All faws of books, all forms, all preffures paft,
That youth and obfervation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone fhall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix'd with bafer matter: yes, by Heaven.
O moft pernicious woman!

O villain, villain, fmiling, damned villain!
My tables-meet it is I fèt it down,

That one may fmile, and fmile, and be a villain;
At least I am fure it may be fo in Denmark.

[Writing. So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; It is, Adieu, adieu! Remember me.

Ophelia's Defcription of Hamlet's mad Addrefs

to ber.

My lord, as I was fewing in my closet,
Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbrac'd;
No hat upon his head; his ftockings foul'd,
Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankle;
Pale as his thirt; his knees knocking each other;
And with a look fo piteous in purport,

As if he had been loofed out of hell,
To fpeak of horrors-he comes before me.
Pol. Mad for thy love?

-Opb. My lord, I do not know;
But, truly, I do fear it.

Pol. What faid he?

Opb. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arm; And with his other hand thus o'er his brow He falls to fuch perufal of my face, As he would draw it. Long ftaid he so; At laft-a little fhaking of mine arm, And thrice his head thus waving up and downHe rais'd a figh fo piteous and profound, As it did feem to fhatter all his bulk, And end his being: That done, he lets me go; And, with his head over his fhoulder turn'd, He feem'd to find his way without his eyes; For out of doors he went without their helps, And, to the last, bended their light on me. Old Age.

Hamlet's Reflections on the Player and himself.
O, what a rogue and peasant flave am I !
Is it not monstrous that this player here,
But in a fiction, in a dream of paffion,
Could force his foul fo to his own conceit,
That, from her working, all his vifage wann'd;
Tears in his eyes, diftraction in 's afpect,
A broken voice, and his whole function fuiting
With forms to his conceit and all for nothing!-
For Hecuba!

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
That he should weep for her? What would he do,
Had he the motive and the cue for paffion,
That I have? he would drown the ftage with tears,
And cleave the gen'ral ear with horrid fpeech;
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Yet I-

A dull and muddy-mettled rafcal, peak,
Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause,
And can fay nothing; no, not for a king,
Upon whole property and moft dear life
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward?
Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?
Tweaks me by the nofe,gives me the lie i the throat,
As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this?
Ha! why, I fhould take it :-for it cannot be,
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall
To make oppreffion bitter; or, ere this,
I fhould have fatted all the region kites
With this flave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain!
Remorfelefs, treacherous, lecherous, kindlefs vil-

lain!

Fie upon't! foh! About, my brains! Humph! I have beard,

And pious action, we do fugar o'er The devil himself.

That guilty creatures, fitting at a play,
Have by the very cunning of the scene
Been fo ftruck to the foul, that prefently
They have proclaim'd their malefactions:
For murder, tho' it have no tongue, will speak
With moft miraculous organ. I'll have thefe
players

Play fomething like the murder of my father,
Before mine uncle: I'll obferve his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench,
I know my courfe. The fpirit, that I have feen,
May be a devil: and the devil hath pow'r
To affume a pleafing fhape; yea, and, perhaps,
Out of my weaknefs and my melancholy,
(As he is very potent with fuch fpirits)
Abufes me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative than this; the play 's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the confcience of the king.
Hypocrify.

King. O, 'tis too true! how fmart A lafh that speech doth give my confcience! The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it, Than is my deed to my moft painted word. Life and Death weighed.

To be, or not to be, that is the question:Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to fuffer Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune; No more; and by a fleep to fay we end And, by oppofing, end them? To die-to fleepThe heart-ach, and the thoufand natural fhocks That flesh is heir to ;-'tis a confummation Devoutly to be wifh'd. To die ;-to fleep ;To fleep! perchance, to dream;-ay,there's the rub; For in that fleep of death what dreams may come, When we have fhuffled off this mortal coil, Muft give us paufe:-there's the respect, That makes calamity of fo long life:

We are oft to blame in this'Tis too much prov'd-that, with devotion's vifage

For who would bear the whips and fcorns of time, Th'oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of defpis'd love, the law's delay, That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, The infolence of office, and the fpurns When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear To grunt and fweat under a weary life; But that the dread of fomething after death, The undifcover'd country, from whofe bourn And makes us rather bear thofe ills we have, No traveller returns-puzzles the will; Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus confcience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of refolution Is ficklied o'er with the pale caft of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard, their currents turn awry, And lofe the name of action,

fword;

Th' expectancy and rofe of the fair ftate,
The glafs of fafhion, and the mould of form,
Th' obferv'd of all obfervers! quite, quite down!
I am of ladies molt deject and wretched,
That fuck'd the honey of his music vows,
Now fee that noble and most fovereign reason,
Like fweet bells jangled, out of tune and harth;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth,
Blafted with ecftafy.

On Flattery, and an even-minded Man.
Nay, do not think I flatter:
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue haft, but thy good fpirits,
To feed, and clothe thee? Why should the poor

be flatter'd ?

No,

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Elegant Extracts: Or, Useful and Entertaining Pieces of Poetry, Selected for ...