« ForrigeFortsett »
Smil the Action to the Word is the Word for the · Wetion; will this sperial observance, that you o'erstep not the Modelty of Nature.
PO E TI CA L.
BOOK THE THIRD.
§ 1. ALL's WELL THAT ENDS WELL. The Remedy of Evils generally in ourselves.
SHAKSPEARE. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to Heav'n. The fated sky Bēthou bleft, Bertram, and succeed thy father, Gives us free fcope ; only doth backward pull
In manners as in Thape ; thy blood and virtue' Our slow deligns, 'when we ourselves are dull. Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Impossible be strange attempts to those Share with thy birth-right. Love all; trust a
That weigh their pain in sense, and do suppose few;
What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy
To Thew her merit, that did miss her love? (Rather in power than ule; and keep thy friend Character of a noble Courtier, by an old Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
Cotemporary. But never tax'd for speech. What Heaven more
King. I would I had that corporal soundness will
now, That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck As when thy father and myself in friendship Fall on thy head!
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest. He lafted long; If Bertram be away. It were all one,
But on us both did haggilh age steal on, That I should love a bright particular star,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me And think to wed it, he is so above me!
To talk of your good father. In his youth In his bright radiance and collateral light
He had the wit which I can well observe Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
To-day in our young Lords; but they may jest Th'ambition in my love thus plagues itself :
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, The hind that would he mated by the lion
Ere they can hide their levity in honour : Muft die for love. 'Twas pretty, tho' a plague, So like a courtier, no contempt or bitterness To see him every hour; to hit and draw
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His arched brows, his hawking cyć, his curls,
His equal had awak'd them : and his honour, In our heart's table: heart, too capable
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Of every line and trick of his sweet favour! Exception bid him speak; and at that time But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below Must fanctify his relics.
He us d as creatures of another place, [him
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his huinility.
in their poor praise he humbled : such a man Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Might be a copy to these younger times, Yet these fix'd evils fit fo fit in him,
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them That they take place, when virtue's steely bones But goers backward.
[now Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft we would I were with him !-He would always fee
fayCold witdom waiting on fuperflucus folly. (Methinks I hear him now) his plaufive words