HENRY IVTH'S APOSTROPHE TO SLEEP.-SHAKS. How many thousands of my poorest subjects Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? Why rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them THE SEVEN AGES.-SHAKS. ALL the world's a stage; And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, Ev'n in the cannon's mouth: And then, the justice; Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything! SCENE FROM THE TRAGEDY OF "ION." TALFOURD. The Royal Chamber. ADRASTUS on a couch, asleep. Enter ION, with a knife. Ion.-Why do I creep thus stealthily along With trembling steps? Am I not arm'd by Heaven, Whom it hath doom'd? And shall I falter now, Assure me, gods !—Yes; I have heard your voices He's smiling in his slumber, [He goes to the couch.] As if some happy thought of innocent days Play'd at his heart-strings: must I scare it thence And he shall know their sentence. Wake, Adrastus! Adras.-Who dares disturb my rest? Guards! Soldiers! Recreants! Where tarry ye? Why smite ye not to earth Ion.-I am none; But a sad instrument in Jove's great hand, Adras.-Villains! does no one hear? Ion.-Vex not the closing minutes of thy being Adras.-Thou!-I know thee The youth I spared this morning, in whose ear [Rising.] How the grim memory of thy thankless deed Ion. It is most true; Thou spar'dst my life, and therefore do the gods Seem the chance forfeit of some single sin, Adras.-I have none on earth. If thou hast courage, end me! Ion.-Not one friend! Most piteous doom! Adras.-Art melted? Ion.-If I am, Hope nothing from my weakness; mortal arms, And eyes unseen that sleep not, gird us round, And we shall fall together. Be it so! Adras.-No; strike at once; my hour is come: in thee I recognise the minister of Jove, And, kneeling thus, submit me to his power. [Adrastus kneels.] Ion.-Avert thy face! Adras.-No; let me meet thy gaze; For breathing pity lights thy features up Into more awful likeness of a form Which once shone on me ;-and which now my sense Shapes palpable-in habit of the grave, Inviting me to the sad realm where shades Mournful and calm;-'tis surely there ;-she waves As if to bless thee-and I bless thee too, Ion.-Gods! to what office have ye doom'd me !-Now! [ION raises his arm to stab ADRASTUS, who is kneeling, and gazes steadfastly upon him. The voice of MEDON is heard without, calling "Ion! Ion!"— ION drops his arm.] Adras.-Be quick, or thou art lost! Medon.-Ion, forbear! Behold thy son, Adrastus! [MEDON rushes in behind him.] [ION drops the knife and stands stupified with horror.] Adras.-What strange words Are these which call my senses from the death They were composed to welcome ?-Son! 'tis false I had but one-and the deep wave rolls o'er him! Medon. That wave received, instead of the fair nurseling, Who made me happy once-the voice, now still, Ion.-Father! [ION sinks on one knee before ADRASTUS.] [A noise without.] Medon. The clang of arms! Ion, (starting up.)-They come ! they come! They who are leagued with me against thy life. Here let us fall! Adras.-I will confront them yet. |