HATRE D.
For as a furfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the ftomach brings;
Or as the herefies, that men do leave,
Are hated moft, of those they did deceive ;
So thou, my furfeit, and my herefy,
Of all be hated; but the most by me.
Shakespear's Midfummer-night's Dream. O! there's a further caufe of hate. Their breafts Are guilty, that we know their obfcure springs, And bafe beginnings; thence the anger grows.
Johnfon's Sejanus. No hate more harms, than that which looks like love, E. of Sterline's Julius Cæfar.
Spite! thou impoftume of afpiring, hearts,.
Whose nature is, that if the bag remain,
The wicked humours straight will fill again;
I will lay open thee, and all thy arts.
Lord Brooke's Alabam.
Thou kingdom's corr'five, home-begotten hate,
In any limits never that wast bounded;
When didit thou yet feize upon any state,
By thee that was not utterly confounded?
How many empires be there that do rue thee?
Happy the world was, till too well it knew thee.
Drayton's Pierce Gavefton.
For hatred hatch'd at home is a tame tyger,
May fawn and fport, but never leaves his nature;
The jars of brothers, two fuch mighty ones,
Is like a small stone thrown into a river,
The breach scarce heard ; but view the beaten current,
And you fhall fee a thousand angry rings
Rife in his face, ftill fwelling and still growing;
So jars cirling diftrufts, diftrufts breeding dangers,
And dangers death, the greatest extreme shallow;
Till nothing bound them but the fhore their graves.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Bloody Brothers.
C 6.
Haply the fire of hate is quite extinct
From the dead embers; now to take them up,
Should the leaft fpark of difcontent appear,
To make the flame of hatred burn afresh,
The heat of this diffention might scorch us;
Which in his own cold afhes fmother'd up,
May die in filence and revive no more.
How a Man may choose a good Wife from a bad
It is the wit, the policy of fin,
To hate thofe men we have abus'd.
Sir W. Davenant's Juft Italian.
HEARING.
Now let us hear how the the ears employs :
Their office is, the troubled air to take;
Which in their mazes forms a found or noife,
Whereof herself doth true diftinction make.
These wickets of the foul are plac'd on high,
Because all founds do lightly move aloft
And that they may not pierce too violently,
They are delay'd with turns and windings oft.
For fhould the voice directly ftrike the brain,
It would astonish and confuse it much;
Therefore these plaits and folds the found restrain,
That it the organ may more gently touch.
As ftreams which with their winding banks do play,
Stopp'd by their creeks, run foftly through the plain:
So in th' ear's labyrinth the voice doth stray,
And doth with easy motion touch the brain.
This is the floweft, yet the daintiest sense;
For ev'n the ears of fuch as have no skill,
Perceive a difcord, and conceive offence;
And knowing not what's good, yet find the ill.
And though this fenfe first gentle mufick found,
Her proper object is the fpeech of men;
But that speech chiefly which God's heraulds found,
When their tongues utter what his fp'rit did pen.
Our eyes are lids, our ears ftill ope we fee,
Quickly to hear how ev'ry tale is prov'd:
Our eyes ftill move, our ears unmoved be;
That though we hear quick,we be not quickly mov'd. Thus by the organs of the eye and ear,
The foul with knowledge doth herself endue :
Thus fhe her prifon may with pleasure bear,
Having fome profpects, all the world to view.
Thefe conduit-pipes of knowledge feed the mind,
But th' other three attend the body ftill;
For by their fervices the foul doth find,
What things are to the body good or ill.
There's a perpetual fpring, perpetual youth,
No joint-benumbing cold, nor fcorching heat,
Famine nor age have any being there:
Forget for fhame your Tempe, bury in
Oblivion, your feign'd Hefperian orchards,
The golden fruit kept by the watchful dragon,
Which did require Hercules to get it,
Compar'd with what grows in all plenty there
Deferves not to be nam'd. The pow'r I ferve
Laughs at your happy Arabie, or the
Elyfan fhades; for he hath made his bow'rs
Better indeed than you can fancy yours.
Maflinger and Dekker's Virgin Martyr.
Do climb with loads upon our shoulders borne ;
Nor muft we tread on rofes, but on thorn.
Shirley's St. Patrick for Ireland.
What a poor value do men fet of heav'n?
Heav'n, the perfection of all that can
Be faid, or thought, riches, delight, or harmony,
Health, beauty and all these not fubject to
The wafte of time; but in their height eternal;
Loft for a penfion, or poor spot of earth,
Favour of greatnefs, or an hours faint pleasure !
As men, in fcorn of a true flame that's near,
Should run to light their taper at a glow-worm.
Shirley's St. Patrick for Ireland.
Heav'n is a great way off, and I fhall be
Ten thousand years in travel, yet 'twere happy
If I may find a lodging there at laft,
Though my poor foul get thither upon crutches.
Shirley's Duke's Miftrefs. This law the heav'ns inviolably keep, Their justice well may flumber, but ne'er fleep.
Glapthorne's Albertus Wallenftein Bleft heav'n, how are thy ways just like thy orbs, Involv'd within each other? yet ftill we find Thy judgments are like comets, that do blaze, Affright, but die withal; whilft that thy mercies. Are like the ftars, who oft-times are obfcur'd, But ftill remain the fame behind the clouds.
Fountain's Rewards of Virtue.
This fhred of life cannot be all the web
Nature hath wrought to govern divine fpirits;
There is a heaven, because there's mifery.
The divine power ever bleft and good,
Made not the world for an ill-natur'd jeft,
To fport himself in pains of thofe he made.
Crown's Regulus.
Now, grandfire; you that hold me at hard meat,
And keep me out at the dag's end, I'll fit you;
Under his lordship's leave, all must be mine,.
He and his will confeffes; what I take then,
Is but a borrowing of fo much before hand":
I'll pay him again when he dies, in fo many blacks;
I'll have the church hung round, a noble a yard;
Or requite him in fcutcheons; let him trap me
In gold, and I'll wrap him in lead; quid pro quo: I
Mult look none of his angels in the face forfooth,.
Until his face be not worth looking on: Tut, lads,
Let fires and granfires keep us low; we must
Live when they're flesh, as well as when they're duft.
Middleton's Mad World my Mafters.
For fince in my time and knowledge, fo
Of the city, conclude in beggary, I had rather
Make a wife stranger my executor, than a foolish
Son my heir; and to have my lands call'd after my
Wit, than after my name; and that's my nature.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit at feveral Weapons.
Thy father hoards up gold for thee to spend,
When death will play the office of a friend,
And take him hence; which yet he thinks too late :
My nothing to inherit is a fate
Above thy birthright fhould it double be
No longing expectation tortures me.
I can my father's rev'rend head furvey,
And yet not wish that ev'ry hair was grey.
My conftant genius fays, I happier ftand,
And richer in his life, than in his land;
And when thou haft an heir that for thy gold
Will think each day makes thee a year too old;
And ever gaping to poffefs thy ftore,
Conceives thy age to be above fourscore
'Cause his is one and twenty; and will pray
The too flow hours to haft, and ev'ry day
Befpeaks thy coffin, curfing ev'ry bell
That he hears toll, 'caufe 'tis another's knell :
And justly at thy life he may repine,
For his is but a wardship during thine.
Divines and dying men may talk of hell,
heart her fev'ral torments dwell.
Shakespear's Yorkshire Tragedy.
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