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when she (poor hen), fond of no second brood,
has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home,
loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust,
and spurn me back: but if it be not so,

thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee,
that thou restrain'st from me the duty which
to a mother's part belongs.—He turns away:
down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees.

W. SHAKESPEARE

CARATACH, GENERAL OF THE BRITONS, SCOUTS
THE IDEA OF PEACE WITH THE ROMANS

AD we a difference with some petty isle,

HAD

or with our neighbours, lady, for our land-marks,

the taking in of some rebellious lord,

or making a head against commotions,

after a day of blood, peace might be argu'd:
but where we grapple for the ground we live on,
the liberty we hold as dear as life,

the gods we worship, and, next those, our honours,
and with those swords that know no end of battle,
those men, beside themselves, allow no neighbour,
those minds that where the day is claim inheritance,
and where the sun makes ripe the fruits, their harvest,
and where they march, but measure out more ground
to add to Rome, and here i' the bowels on us;
it must not be. No, as they are our foes,
and those that must be so until we tire 'em,
let's use the peace of honour, that's fair dealing,
but in our ends our swords.

J. FLETCHER

THE HORSE-THE HAWK-THE EAGLE

HAST thou given the horse strength? hast thou

clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear and is not affrighted: neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear, and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and

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rage: neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting. Doth the hawk fly by thy wisdom, and stretch her wings towards the South? Doth the eagle mount up at thy command and make her nest on high? She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, upon the crag of the rock, and the strong place. From thence she seeketh the prey, and her eyes behold afar off. Her young ones also suck up blood; and where the slain are, there is she.

A FATHER'S REPROOF

BOOK OF JOB

MALEFORT SEN. TO MALEFORT JUN.

AVE I so far lost

HA

a father's power, that I must give account of my actions to my son? or must I plead as a fearful prisoner at the bar, while he that owes his being to me sits a judge to censure that, which only by myself ought to be questioned? mountains sooner fall • beneath their valleys, and the lofty pine pay homage to the bramble, or what else is preposterous in nature, ere my tongue in one short syllable yields satisfaction to any doubt of thine; nay, though it were a certainty disdaining argument!

Since, though my deeds wore hell's black livery, to thee they should appear triumphal robes, set off with glorious honour, thou being bound to see with my eyes, and to hold that reason that takes or birth or fashion from my will. 708 Who train'd thee up in arms but I? Who taught thee men were men only when they durst look down with scorn on death and danger, and contemn'd all opposition, till plumed Victory

had made her constant stand upon their helmets?
Under my shield thou hast fought as securely
as the young eaglet, covered with the wings
of her fierce dam, learns how and where to prey.
All that is manly in thee, I call mine;
but what is weak and womanish, thine own.

709

710

And what I gave, since thou art proud, ungrateful,
presuming to contend with him, to whom
submission is due, I will take from thee.

Look, therefore, for extremities, and expect not
I will correct thee as a son, but kill thee

as a serpent swollen with poison; who surviving
a little longer, with infectious breath

would render all things near him, like itself,
contagious.

ILLO TO WALLENSTEIN

P. MASSINGER

HIS is that moment. See, our army chieftains,

THIS

our best, our noblest, are assembled around you, their kinglike leader! On your nod they wait.

The single threads, which here your prosperous fortune
hath woven together in one potent web
instinct with destiny, O let them not
unravel of themselves. If you permit
these chiefs to separate, so unanimous

bring you them not a second time together.

'Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship,
and every individual's spirit waxes

in the great stream of multitudes. Behold
they are still here, here still! But soon the war
bursts them once more asunder. He, who to-day
forgets himself, forced onward with the stream,
will become sober, seeing but himself,

feel only his own weakness, and with speed
will face about, and march on in the old
high road of duty.

S. T. COLERIDGE from Schiller

THE AGED MAN AT ARMS

HIS golden locks time hath to silver turn'd;

O time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing! his youth 'gainst time and age hath ever spurn'd, but spurn'd in vain; youth waneth by increasing: beauty, strength, youth are flowers but fading seen, duty, faith, love, are roots and ever green.

His helmet now shall make a hive for bees
and lover's sonnets turn'd to holy psalms;
a man at arms must now serve on his knees,
and feed on prayers, which are age his alms:

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but though from court to cottage he depart,
his saint is sure of his unspotted heart.
And when he saddest sits in homely cell,

he'll teach his swains this carol for a song;
blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well,
curs'd be the souls that think her any wrong:
goddess, allow this aged man his right,

to be your beadsman now that was your knight.

H1

SATYRANE

IS loving mother came upon a day

G. PEELE

unto the woodes, to see her little sonne;
and chaunst unwares to meet him in the way
after his sportes and cruell pastime donne;
when after him a lyonesse did runne,
that roaring all with rage did lowd requere
her children deare, whom he away had wonne :
the lyon whelpes she saw how he did beare,
and lull in rugged arms withouten childish feare.
The fearefull dame all quaked at the sight,
and turning backe gan fast to fly away;
untill, with love revokt from vaine affright,

she hardly yet perswaded was to stay,

and then to him these womanish words gan say: “Ah, Satyrane, my dearling and my joy,

for love of me leave off this dreadfull play;

to dally thus with death is no fit toy:

go, find some other play-fellowes, mine own sweet boy."

HAMLET TO HORATIO

NAY, do not think I flatter:

E. SPENSER

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 flatter'd ?

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
hath sealed thee for herself: for thou hast been

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as one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;
a man, that fortune's buffets and rewards
hast ta'en with equal thanks: and bless'd are those,
whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,
that they are not a pipe for fortune's finger

to sound what stop she please. Give me that man
that is not passion's slave; and I will wear him
in my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
as I do thee.

W. SHAKESPEARE

PRINCE ARTHUR'S ADDRESS TO NIGHT

NIGHT! thou foule mother of annoyance sad,

sister of heavie Death, and nourse of Woe, which wast begot in heaven, but for thy bad and brutish shape thrust downe to hell below, where, by the grim floud of Cocytus slow, thy dwelling is in Herebus' black hous, (black Herebus, thy husband, is the foe of all the gods), where thou ungratious half of thy days dost lead in horror hideous; what had th' eternall Maker need of thee the world in his continuall course to keepe, that dost all thinges deface, ne lettest see the beauty of His worke? Indeed, in sleepe the slouthful body that doth love to steep his lustlesse limbes, and drowne his baser mind, doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe calls thee his goddesse, in his errour blind, and great Dame Nature's handmaide chearing every kind.

E. SPENSER

714 Gi.

FATHE

GISMUNDA-TANCRED

ATHER, these tears love challengeth of due. But reason saith, thou shouldst the same subdue.

Gi. His funerals are yet before my sight.

Ta. In endless moans princes should not delight.
Gi. The turtle pines in loss of her true mate.
Ta. And so continues poor and desolate.
Gi. Who can forget a jewel of such price?
Ta. She that hath learned to master her desires.
Let reason work, what time doth easily frame
in meanest wits, to bear the greatest ills.