THE WORLDLY EPOCH OF

CIVILIZATION.

So may the outward shows be least themselves;
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the show of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but some sober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars;
Who inward search'd, have livers white as milk?
And these assume but valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight;
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it:
So are those crisped snakey golden locks,
Which make such wanton gambols with the
wind,

Upon supposed fairness, often known

To be the dowry of a second head,

The scull that bred them, in the sepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore

To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word,

The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest.

MERCHANT OF VENICE, A. 3, s. 2.

THE WORLDLY FRIEND GROWING

men

COLD.

WHAT a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish myself against such a good time, when I might have shown myself honourable! how unluckily it happened, that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour!-Servilius, now before the gods, I am not able to do't; the more beast, I say::-I was sending to use lord Timon myself, these gentlecan witness; but I would not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done it now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope, his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind:-And tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to him?

True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed;
And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed.

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, s. 2.

THE WORLD'S COMMON COMMENT ON MISFORTUNE.

ALAS, good lord! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I have dined with him, and told him on't; and come again to supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less: and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning by my

coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty is his; I have told him on't, but I could never get him from it.

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3., s. 1.

THE WORM THAT DIETH NOT
WITHOUT REPENTANCE.

UNNATURAL deeds

Do breed unnatural troubles: Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician.-
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her;
Remove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her:-So, good night:
My mind she has mated, and amaz'd my sight:
I think, but dare not speak.

MACBETH, A. 5, s. 1.

THE WORTHY SCION OF A NOBLE

FATHER.

TALBOT. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee,

To tutor thee in stratagems of war;

That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd,
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs,
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!-
Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
A terrible and unavoided danger :

Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
By sudden flight: come, dally not, begone.

JOHN.

son ?

Is my name Talbot? and am I

your

And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,
Dishonour not her honourable name,
To make a bastard, and a slave of me:
The world will say,-He is not Talbot's blood,
That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.

TAL. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. JOHN. He, that flies so, will ne'er return again.

TAL. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. JOHN. Then let me stay; and, father, do you

fly:

Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
Upon my death the French can little boast;
In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
But mine it will, that no exploit have done :
You fled for vantage, every one will swear;
But, if I bow, they'll say-it was for fear.
There is no hope that ever I will stay,
If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away.
Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.

TAL. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?

JOHN. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.

TAL. Upon my blessing I command thee go. JOHN. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. TAL. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee. JOHN. No part of him, but will be shame in

me.

TAL. Thou never had'st renown, nor canst not lose it.

JOHN. Yes, your renowned name; Shall flight abuse it ?

TAL. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.

JOHN. You cannot witness for me, being slain.

If death be so apparent, then both fly.

TAL. And leave my followers here, to fight, and die ?

My age was never tainted with such shame. JOHN. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?

No more can I be sever'd from your side,
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
For live I will not, if my father die.

TAL. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,

Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.

Come, side by side together live and die;

And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 4, s. 5.

THE WORTHY SCION OF A NOBLE FATHER-THEIR DEATHS.

TALBOT. Where is my other life?—mine own is gone;

O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant
John?-

Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity!
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee :-
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
And, like a hungry lion, did commence