There's not a hollow cave, or lurking-place, No vast obscurity, or misty vale,
Where bloody murder, or detested rape,
Can couch for fear, but I will find them out; And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake.
TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 5, s. 2.
Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.
He has no children.-All my
Did you say, all ?-O, hell-kite!-All?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, At one fell swoop?
MAL. Dispute it like a man.
But I must also feel it as a man:
I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.—Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! nought that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now!
MAL. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. MACD. O, I could play the woman with mine
And braggart with my tongue!-But, gentle heaven,
Cut short all intermission; front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too!
MAL. This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready: Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments.
The night is long, that never finds the day.
THE DIVINITY OF A NOBLE SPIRIT.
IN few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,) Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best temper'd courage in his troops: For from his metal was his party steel'd: Which once in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed; So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear,
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim, Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Fly from the field.
K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 1, s. 1.
THE DOCTRINE OF MERCY ENUN- CIATED BY AN ANGEL OF LIGHT. THE quality of mercy is not strain'd;
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His scepter shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this scepter'd sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this— That in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoken thus much, To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 4, s. 1.
THE DOVE SEEKING ITS MATE.
I SEE, a man's life is a tedious one:
I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick,
But that my resolution helps me.-Milford,
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee,
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think, Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me,
I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness
Is sorer, than to lie for need; and falsehood
Is worse in kings, than beggars.-My dear lord! Thou art one o'the false ones: Now I think on thee,
My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food.-But what is this? Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold: I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness
Of hardiness is mother.-Ho! who's here ? If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage, Take, or lend.-Ho!-No answer? then I'll enter.
Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look
Such a foe, good heavens!
THE DYING WARRIOR.
HERE burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. O, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,
More than my body's parting with my soul. My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee; And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York, The common people swarm like summer flies: And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry's enemies? O Phœbus! hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth: And Henry, had'st thou sway'd as kings should do, Or as thy father, and his father, did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm, Had left no mourning widows for our death, And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds, but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity ?
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds: No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight; The foe is merciless, and will not pity; For, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity. The air hath got into my deadly wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint :— Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.
K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, s. 6.
THE EARTH DISEASED.
DISEASED nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions: oft the teeming earth Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex'd
« ZurückWeiter » |