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With that I saw two swannes of goodly Then forth they all out of their baskets hewe

drew Come softly swimming downe along the lee; Great store of flowers, the honour of the Two fairer birds I yet did never see:

field, The snow which doth the top of Pindus That to the sense did fragrant odours yeild, strew

All which upon those goodly birds they Did never whiter shew,

threw, Nor Jove himselfe, when he a swan would be And all the waves did strew, For love of Leda, wbiter did appear: That like old Peneus waters they did seeme, Yet Leda was, they say, as white as he, When downe along by pleasant Tempes Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare:

shore, So purely white they were,

Scattred with flowres, through Thessaly That even the gentle streame, the which they streeme,

80 them bare,

That they appeare, through lillies plenteous Seem'd foule to them, and bad his billowes


Like a brydes chamber flore. To wet their silken feathers, least they Two of those nymphes, meane while, two might

garlands bound Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so Of freshest flowres which in that mead fayre,


they found, And marre their beauties bright,

The which presenting all in trim array, That shone as heavens light,

Their snowie foreheads therewithall they Against their brydale day, which was not crownd, long:

Whil'st one did sing this lay, Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end | Prepar'd against that day, my song

Against their brydale day, which was not

long: Eftsoones the nymphes, which now had | Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end flowers their fill,

my song.

90 Ran all in baste to see that silver brood, As they came floating on the christal Ye gentle birdes, the worlds faire ornaflood;

ment, Whom when they sawe, they stood amazed And heavens glorie, whom this happie still,

hower Their wondring eyes to fill.

Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull bower, Them seem'd they never saw a sight so Joy may you have and gentle hearts confayre,


tent Of fowles so lovely, that they sure did Of your loves couplement: deeme

And let faire Venus, that is Queene of Them heavenly borne, or to be that same Love, payre

With her heart-quelling sonne upon you Which through the skie draw Venus silver

smile, teeme;

Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to For sure they did not seeme

remove To be begot of any earthly seede,

All loves dislike, and friendships faultie But rather angels or of angels breede: Yet were they bred of Somers-heat, they say, For ever to assoile.

100 In sweetest season, when each flower and Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts weede

accord, The earth did fresh aray;

And blessed plentie wait upon your bord; So fresh they seem'd as day,

And let your bed with pleasures chast Even as their brydale day, which was not

abound, long:

That fruitfull issue may to you afford, Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end Which may your foes confound, my song

And make your joyes redound,



Upon your brydale day, which is not long: Yet tberein now doth lodge a noble peer, Sweete Themmes, run softlie, till I end Great Englands glory and the worlds wide my song.'


Whose dreadfull name late through all So ended she; and all the rest around

Spaine did thunder, To her redoubled that her undersong, 110 And Hercules two pillors standing neere Which said, their bridale daye should not Did make to quake and feare. be long.

Faire branch of honor, flower of cheval. And gentle Eccho from the neighbour


150 ground

That fillest England with thy triumphes Their accents did resound.

fame, So forth those joyous birdes did passe along, | Joy have thou of thy noble victorie, Adowne the lee, that to them murmurdeAnd endlesse happinesse of thine owne low,

name As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong, That promiseth the same: Yeat did by signes his glad affection show, That through thy prowesse and victorious Making his streame run slow.

armes And all the foule which in his flood did dwell Thy country may be freed from forraine Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell

harmes; The rest so far as Cynthia doth shend 121 And great Elisaes glorious name may The lesser starres. So they, euranged well,

ring Did on those two attend,

Through ål the world, fild with thy wide And their best service lend,

alarmes, Against their wedding day, which was not | Which some brave Muse may sing long:

To ages following,

. . 160 Sweete Themmes, run softly, till I end | Upon the brydale day, which is not long: my song.

Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end

my song At length they all to mery London came, To mery London, my most kyndly nurse, From those high towers this noble lord That to me gave this lifes first native sourse;

issuing, Though from another place I take my name, Like radiant Hesper when his golden hayre An house of auncient fame.


In th' ocean billowes he hath bathed fayre, There when they came, whereas those Descended to the rivers open vewing, bricky towres,

With a great traine ensuing. The which on Themmes brode aged backe Above the rest were goodly to bee seene doe ryde,

Two gentle knights of lovely face and Where now the studious lawyers have their

feature, bowers,

Beseeming well the bower of anie queene, 170 There whylome wont the Templer Knights | With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature, to byde,

Fit for so goodly stature: Till they decayd through pride:

That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in Next whereunto there standes a stately

sight, place,

Which decke the bauldricke of the heavens Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace

bright. Of that great lord which therein wont to They two, forth pacing to the rivers side, dwell,

Received those two faire brides, their Whose want too well now feeles my

loves delight, freendles case:

Which, at th' appointed tyde, But ah! here fits not well

Each one did make his bryde, Olde woes, but joyes to tell,

Against their brydale day, which is not Against the bridale daye, which is not long:

long: Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end my song

my song.




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[From The Merchant of Venice)
TELL me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head ?
How begot, how nourished ?

Reply, reply.
It is engend'red in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.

Let us all ring fancy's knell;

I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell.

[From As You Like It)
UNDER the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,
And turn his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,
Come hither, come hither, come hither!

Here shall he see

No enemy
But winter and rough weather.

What is love ? 'T is not hereafter. Present mirth hath present laughter;

What's to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure.


(From Cymbeline] HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate

• sings,

And Phoebus gins arise
His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise,

Arise, arise.

[From As You Like It]
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green

holly. Most friendship is feigning, most loving

mere folly.
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.


[From The Tempest]
COME unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands.
Curtsied when you have, and kiss'd

The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there,

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear Burden (dispersedly). Hark, hark !

The watch-dogs bark !

Ari. Hark, hark ! I bear

The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, “Cock-a-diddle-dow.”

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot;
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend rememb’red not. Heigh-ho! sing, etc.



By chance or nature's changing course un[From The Tempest)


But thy eternal summer shall not fade FULL fathom five thy father lies; Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Of his bones are coral made; Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his Those are pearls that were his eyes:

shade, Nothing of him that doth fade When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; But doth suffer a sea-change

So long as men can breathe or eyes can Into something rich and strange.

see, Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: So long lives this and this gives life to Burden. Ding-dong. Ari. Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell.


When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's ARIEL'S SONG


I all alone beweep my outcast state, (From The Tempest]

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless Ari. “WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I. cries, In a cowslip's bell I lie;

And look upon myself and curse my fate, There I couch when owls do cry. Wishing me like to one more rich in On the bat's back I do fly

hope, After summer merrily.

Featur'd like him, like him with friends Merrily, merrily shall I live now

possess'd, Under the blossom that hangs on the Desiring this man's art, and that man's bough."

scope, With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost deSONNETS


Haply I think on thee; and then my state, TO . THE . ONLIE . BEGETTER. OF. Like to the lark at break of day arising

THESE . INSUING . SONNETS . From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's


For thy sweet love rememb’red such PROMISED.

wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state

with kings.


WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent SETTING.

thought FORTH.

I summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's

waste: SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day? Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, Thou art more lovely and more temper-| For precious friends hid in death's dateless ate:

night, Rough winds do shake the darling buds of And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd May,

woe, And summer's lease hath all too short a And moan the expense of many a vanish'd date;

sight: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er And every fair from fair sometimne de- || The sad account of fore-bemoan'd moan, clines,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.



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But if the while I think on thee, dear | When sometime lofty towers I see downfriend,

razed All losses are restor'd and sorrows end. And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;

When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 55

Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, Not marble, nor the gilded monuments And the firm soil win of the watery main, Of princes, shall outlive this powerful Increasing store with loss and loss with rhyme;

store; But you shall shine more bright in these When I have seen such interchange of contents

state, Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish Or state itself confounded to decay; time.

Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, When wasteful war shall statues overturn, That Time will come and take my love And broils root out the work of masonry,

away. Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire This thought is as a death, which cannot shall burn

choose The living record of your memory.

But weep to have that which it fears to 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity

lose. Shall you pace forth; your praise sball still

find room Even in the eyes of all posterity

SINCE brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundThat wear this world out to the ending

less sea, doom.

But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, So, till the judgement that yourself arise, How with this rage shall beauty hold a You live in this, and dwell in lovers'

plea, eyes.

Whose action is no stronger than a flower ? 0, how shall summer's honey breath hold

out LIKE as the waves make towards the peb Against the wreckful siege of batt'ring days, bled shore,

When rocks impregnable are not so stout, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time deEach changing place with that which goes

cays ? before,

O fearful meditation ! where, alack, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest Nativity, once in the main of light,

lie hid? Crawls to maturity, wherewith being | Or what strong hand can hold his swift crown'd,

foot back? Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid ? And Time that gave doth now his gift con O, none, unless this miracle have might, found.

That in black ink my love may still shine Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth

bright. And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

66 And nothing stands but for his scythe to | TIR'D with all these, for restful death I cry, mow;

As, to behold desert a beggar born, And yet to times in hope my verse sball And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, stand,

And purest faith unhappily forsworn, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd, hand.

And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,

And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd, 64

And strength by limping sway disabled, WAEN I have seen by Time’s fell hand de And art made tongue-tied by authority, faced

And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill, The rich proud cost of outworn buried And simple truth miscall’d simplicity, age;

And captive good attending captain ill:


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