Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder..

The Approach of Death.

It is too late; the life of all his blood

Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house) Doth by the idle comments that it makes,

Foretell the ending of mortality.

King John's Death by Poison.

Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room ;
It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Do I shrink up.

Poison' d-ill-fare;-dead, forsook, cast off:
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ;

*

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, And comfort me with cold.

England Invincible if Unanimous.

This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock them: Naught shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.

-000

KING RICHARD II.

This historical play describes the dethronement and death of the monarch whose name it bears. Richard, on the death of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, appropriates to himself the lands of the deceased nobleman, to enable him to prosecute a war in Ireland, for which country he takes his departure. In the king's absence, Bolingbroke (son of John of Gaunt), who had been banished, returns to England, and levying an army, hastens to meet the king on his return from Ireland. Finding his nobles. falling away from him, and his soldiers deserting his standard, the king accompanies Bolingbroke to London, and there resigns his crown to him. The dethroned monarch is imprisoned in Pomfret Castle, where he is assassinated by Sir Pierce of Exton, and the play concludes with the reproval of Exton by Bolingbroke, who resolves himself to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, to expiate his cruelty towards the unfortunate King Richard. Dr. Johnson says of this tragedy-"It is not finished at last with that happy force of some others of Shakspere's tragedies; nor can it be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding "

Аст I

Reputation.

THE purest treasure mortal times afford
Is-spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.

Cowardice.

That which in mean men we entitle-patience, Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.

Banishment.

All places, that the eye of heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens:
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
There is no virtue like necessity.

Think not, the king did banish thee;

But thou the king; woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say--I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not-the king exiled thee: or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it

To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st;
Suppose the singing birds musicians;

The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd
The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps no more

Than a delightful measure, or a dance :
For gnarling* sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.

Imagination Ineffectual to Moderate Afflictions.

O, who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
By bare imagination of a feast!

Or wallow naked in December's snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ?

* Grumbling, snarling.

O, no! the apprehension of the good,
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrow's tooth does never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore,

Popularity.

Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,
Observed his courtship to the common people
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy ;

What reverence he did throw away on slaves;
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,

As 't were, to banish their affects with him.

Off

goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;

A brace of draymen bid-God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,

With—"Thanks my countrymen, my loving friends ;"

-As were our England in reversion his, And he our subjects next degree in hope.

ACT II.

England described.

This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise ;

This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds;
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.

Grief.

Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which show like grief itself, but are not so;
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects;
Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon,
Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry,
Distinguish form.

Hope Deceitful.

I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper back of death,

Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.

Prognostics of War.

The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven: The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean look'd prophets whisper fearful change; Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap.