Bright Phoebus in his strength,-a malady The flower-de-luce being one! Winter's Tale, iv. 4. XLVI. A MOTHER'S IMAGE. Discovery of Marina. (Pericles log.) My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one brows; Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight; As silver-voiced: her eyes as jewel-like, And cased as richly: in pace another Juno; Which starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry, The more she gives them speech. Prithee, speak; Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace For the crowned Truth to dwell in. Pericles, v. i. SONGS. I. SILVIA. WHO is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness. Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being helped, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, iv. 1. II. THE CHARMS OF MUSIC. ORPHEUS, with his lute, made trees To his music plants and flowers There had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Fall asleep, or hearing die. Henry VIII., iii. 3. III. 'The first dark day of nothingness The last of danger and distress.' FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages: Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages: Fear no more the frown o' the great; To thee the reed is as the oak: Fear no more the lightning flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone : Fear not slander, censure rash : Thou hast finished joy and moan : All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust. Cymbeline, iv. 2. Now it is the time of night By the triple Hecate's team, To A Midsummer Night's Dream, v. 1. 5. (Juno and Ceres sing.) HONOUR, riches, marriage-blessing, Earth's increase, foison plenty, Spring come to you at the farthest The Tempest, iv. 1. 6. (Ariel sings.) WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. V. The Tempest, v. 1. REVEILLEZ. HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies: And winking Mary-buds begin Arise, arise! VI. LOVE RESTRAINED. ON a day-alack the day!- G Cymbeline, ii. 3. |