The Complete Art of Poetry ...

Description of Dover Cliff.

How fearful

And dizzy 'tis to caft one's Eyes so low!

The Crows and Choughs, that wing the midway Air,
Shew scarce so gross as Beetles. Half way down
Hangs one that gathers Samphire; dreadful Trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his Head.
The Fisher-men that walk upon the Beach
Appear like Mice; and yon tall Anchoring Bark
Diminish'd to her Cock; her Cock, a Buoy
Almost too small for fight. The murmuring Surge,
That on th'unnumber'd idle Pebble chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my Brain turn, and the deficient Sight
Topple down headlong.

Edgar. Ibid.

Preferment.

'Tis the Curse of Service;

Preferment goes by Letter, and Affection,

And not by old Gradation, where each second

Stood Heir to th' first. Fago. Othello Moor of Venice.

Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough;

But Riches fineless, is as poor as Winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

Barge.

Fago. Ibid.

Eno. The Barge she sat in, like a burnish'd Throne

Burnt on the Water; the Poop was beaten Gold,

Purple the Sails, and so perfumed, that

The Winds were Love-sick.

With them the Oars were Silver,

Which

Which to the Tune of Flutes kept stroke, and made
The Water, which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their Strokes. For her own Person,
It beggar'd all Description; the did lye
In her Pavillion, Cloth of Gold, of Tiffue,
O'er picturing that Venus, where we fee
The Fancy out-work Nature. On each fide her
Stood
pretty dimpled Boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd Fans, whose Wind did feem
To glow the delicate Cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did.

Agrippa. Oh rare for Antony.

Enobarbus. Her Gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many Mermaids tended her i' th' Eyes,
And made their bends adornings. At the Helm,
A feeming Mermaid steers; the silken Tackles
Swell with the Touches of those flower-soft Hands
That yearly frame the Office. From the Barge
A strange invisible Perfume hits the Sense
Of the adjacent Wharfs. The City caft
Her People out upon her; and Antony,
Enthron'd i' th' Market-place, did fit alone,
Whistling to the Air; which, but for vacancy,

Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,

And made a Gap in Nature.

Antony and Cleopatras.

Fortune forms our Judgments.

I see Mens Judgments are

A Parcel of their Fortunes, and Things outward

Do draw the inward Quality after them

To fuffer all alike.

Loyalty.

Eno. Ibid.

Mine Honesty, and I, begin to square;
The Loyalty well held to Fools, does make...
Our Faith meer Folly; yet he that can endure.

To follow with Allegiance a fall'n Lord,

Des

Do's conquer him that did his Master conquer,
And earns a Place i th Story.

Eno. Ibid.

On Gold.

'Tis Gold

Which buys Admittance, oft it doth, yea, and makes Diana's Rangers false themselves, and yield up

Their Deer to th' Stand of the Stealer. And 'tis Gold Which makes the True Man kill'd, and faves the Thief; Nay, sometimes hangs both Thief and True-Man: What Can it not do, and undo?

Slander.

No, 'tis Slander,

Cymbeline. Cloten.

Whose Edge is sharper than the Sword, whose Tongue
Out-venoms all the Worms of Nile, whose Breath
Rides on the posting Winds, and doth belye
All Corners of the World. Kings, Queens, and States,
Maids, Matrons, nay the Secrets of the Grave,

This viperous Slander enters.

Melancholy.

Oh Melancholy!

Pifanio. Ibid.

Who ever yet could found thy Bottom? Find
The Ooze, to shew what Coast thy fluggish Care
Might easiliest harbour in! Thou blessed Thing.
Foue knows what Man thou might'st have made; but ah!
Thou dy'dst, a most rare Boy, of Melancholy.

Bellarius. Ibid.

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