What you require of him, he partly begs,
To be defir'd to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you would make a staff
'Tis pity bounty has not eyes behind;
Shakespear's Antony and Cleopatra.
That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.
There was no winter in't: an autumn 'twas,
That grew the more by reaping.
Shakespear's Antony and Cleopatra. 1. How fares it with our great and royal master? 2. Right plentifully well; as, with a prince, That ftill holds out the great proportion Of his large favours, where his judgment hath Made once divine election: like the God That wants not, nor is wearied to bestow Where merit meets his bounty, as it doth
Bounty and gifts lofe more than they do find,
Where many look for good, few have their mind;
Each thinks, he merits more than that he hath ;
And fo gifts laid for love, do catch men wrath.
Daniel's Philotas.
O bleffed bounty, giving all content!
The only fautress of all noble arts,
That lend'it fuccefs to ev'ry good intent,
A grace that refts in the most god-like hearts,
By heav'n to none but happy fouls infus'd,
Pity it is, that e'er thou waft abus'd.
To all alike, may do a good by chance,
But never out of judgment.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Spanish Curate
Are great, and gracious while they are difpens'd
With moderation; but when their excess
In giving giant bulks to others, take from
The prince's juft proportion, they lofe
The names of virtues, and their natures chang'd,
Grow the most dangerous vices.
Malfinger's Emperour of the Eaft.
He that doth many good deeds, it may fall
Among the reft, one may reward them all.
Shirley's Bird in a Cage. How foon, from virtue, and an honour'd spirit, May man receive, what he can never merit ?
Thy bounties, if I name, I'll not admit,
Kings when they love, or woo, to equal it:
It fhew'd like nature's felf, when the doth bring
All the can promife by an early spring;
Or when the pays that promife where the best
Makes fummers for mankind; in the rich east.
And, as the wife fun, filently employs
His lib'ral beams, and ripens without noife;
As precious dews do undifcover'd fall,
And growth infenfibly doth steal on all;
So what he gave, conceal'd in private came,
As in the dark, from one that had no name;
Like fairies wealth, not given to restore,`
Or if reveal'd, it vifited no more.
As Hefiod fings, fpread water o'er thy field,
And a moft juft and glad encrease 'twill yield;
But yet take heed, left doing good to one,
Mischief and wrong be to another done;
Such moderation with thy bounty join,
That thou may'st nothing give that is not thine;
That liberality is but caft away,
Which makes us borrow what we cannot pay.
Juftice herself, that fitteth wimpled 'bout
'The eyes, doth it not because the will take
No gold, but that she would not be seen blushing
When she takes it: the balances fhe holds
Are not to weigh the right of the cause, but
The weight of the bribe: fhe will put up her
Naked fword, if thou offer her a golden fcabbard.
Lilly's Mydas.
1. You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella,
For taking bribes here of the Sardians;
Wherein, my letter (praying on his fide,
Because I knew the man) was flighted of.
2. You wrong'd yourfelf to write in such a cafe.
1. In fuch a time as this, it is not meet
That ev'ry nice offence should bear it's comment.
2. Yet, let me tell you, Caffius, you your self
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
To fell, and mart your offices for gold,
To undefervers.
You know, that you are Brutus, that speaks this;
Or, by the gods, this fpeech were elfe your laft.
2. The name of Caffius honours this corruption,
And chaftifement doth therefore hide it's head.
1. Chastisement !
2. Remember March, the ides of March remember!
Did not great Julius bleed for juftice fake?
What villain touch'd his body, that did ftab,
And not for juftice? what, fhall one of us,
That ftruck the foremost man of all this world,
But for fupporting robbers; fhall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ?
And fell the mighty fpace of our large honours
For fo much trafh, as may be grafped thus?
I'd rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than fuch a Roman.
Shakespear's Julius Cæfar.
Decrees
Decrees are bought, and laws are fold,
Honours, and Offices, for gold;
The people's voices, and the free
Tongues in the fenate, bribed be.
Who thinketh to buy villany with gold,
Shall ever find fuch faith fo bought, fo fold.
I mean to carry a bribe: for look ye,
Good gifts evermore make way for the worst perfons. Webster's Dutchess of Malfy.
'Tis gold must fuch an inftrument procure,
With empty fist no man does falcons lure.
Yet it draws black lines: it fhall not rule my palm
There to mark forth his bafe corruption.
Middleton and Rowley's Fair Quarrel.
A drudge may find more corners in the house
Than e'er the master knew, and may discover
A fecret inlet to betray a city;
'There will I now begin, he fhall advise
Where I shall plant my golden batteries.
Sir Ralph Freeman's Imperiale.
I wonder Zanthia, why the custom is
To ufe fuch ceremony, fuch strict shape
About us women; forfooth the bride muft fteal
Before her lord to bed and then delays
Long expectations, all against known wishes.
I hate thefe figures in locution,
Thefe about-phrafes, forc'd by ceremony;
We must still seem to fly what we most seek,
And hide ourselves from that we fain would find :
Let those that think, and fpeak, and do juft acts,
Know, form can give no virtue to their facts,
Nor detract vice.
Marfion's Sophonisha. 1. While
1. While early light fprings from the skies,
A fairer from your bride doth rife;
A brighter day doth thence appear,
And make a fecond morning there.
Her blush doth shed,
All o'er the bed,
Clean fhame-fac'd beams,
That spread in ftreams,
And purple round the modeft air.
2. I will not tell what fhrieks and cries,
What angry pishes, and what fies,
What pretty oaths then newly born
The lift'ning taper heard there fworn:
While froward fhe,
Moft peevishly,
Did yielding fight
To keep o'er night,
What she'd have profferr'd you ere morn.
3. Fair, we know, maids do refuse
To grant what they do come to loose.
Intend a conqueft you that wed;
They would be chaftly ravished.
The maid, and thereby hangs a tale,
For fuch a maid no Whitfon ale
Could ever yet produce :
No grape that's kindly ripe, could be
So round, fo plump, fo foft as fhe,
Nor half fo full of juice.
Her Finger was fo fmall, the ring
Would not ftay on which they did bring
It was too wide a peck :
And to fay truth, for out it muft,
It look'd like the great collar juft,
About our young colt's neck.
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