Till when, humbly leave I take, Under a broad beech's shade. II. THE RIVER GOD TO AMORET. I AM this fountain's god. Below But, when thou wilt, come gliding by III. THE SATYR. THOU divinest, fairest, brightest, FROM "THE NICE VALOUR." HENCE, all you vain delights, O sweetest melancholy! A look that's fasten'd to the ground, Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. [WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born at Stratford on Avon, in April, 1564; there also he died, April 23d (old style), 1616. The following are the titles of his poems, with the dates of publication: Venus and Adonis, 1593; The Rape of Lucrece, 1594; The Passionate Pilgrim (a miscellany which includes only a few pieces by Shakespeare), 1599; The Phenix and the Turtle (printed with pieces on the same subject by other poets of the time, at the end of Robert Chester's Love's Martyr, or Rosalin's Complaint), 1601; Sonnets, 1609; A Lover's Complaint (in the same volume with the Sonnets), 1609.] ADVICE OF POLONIUS TO HIS [From Hamlet.] GIVE thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act, Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; But do not dull thy palm with enter tainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd com rade. Beware Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all-to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, man. Farewell; my blessing season this in thee. HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY ON Life Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, To be, or not to be, - thee. tion: that is the ques When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause; there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life: For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life; But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, - puzzles the will; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn a-wry, And lose the name of action. Let me not burst in ignorance! but tell Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again! What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature, So horribly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? HAMLET'S ESTEEM FOR HORATIO. NAY, do not think I flatter: For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish her election, She hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers no thing; A man that fortune's buffets and rewards THE VISIONARY DAGGER. Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. I see the vet, in form as palpable Thou marshall'st me the way that I was DRAW thy sword; That if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine. Behold, it is the privilege of mine honors, My oath, and my profession: I protest,Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune, Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a traitor : False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father; Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince; And from the extremest upward of thy head, To the descent and dust beneath thy feet, A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, "No," This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, Thou liest. THE STORM. [From King Lear.] POOR naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, CLEOPATRA ON THE CYDNUS. [From Antony and Cleopatra.] THE barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd 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 to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her |