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Enough's as good as a feast.1 Eastward Ho. Act iii. Sc. 2. Fair words never hurt the tongue.?

Act iv. Sc. 1. Let pride go afore, shame will follow after.3

Ibid. I will neither yield to the song of the siren nor the voice of the hyena, the tears of the crocodile nor the howling of the wolf.

Act v. Sc. 1. As night the life-inclining stars best shows, So lives obscure the starriest souls disclose.

Epilogue to Translations. Promise is most given when the least is said.

Museus of Hero and Leander.

WILLIAM WARNER. 1558–1609.

With that she dasht her on the lippes,
So dyed double red :
Hard was the heart that gave the blow,
Soft were those lips that bled.

Albion's England. Book riii. chap. xli. stanza 53.
We thinke no greater blisse then such

To be as be we would,
When blessed none but such as be
The same as be they should.

Book x. chap. lix. stanza 68.


O Douglas, O Douglas!
Tendir and trewe.

The Buke of the Howlat.4 Stanza xxxi. 1 Dives and Pauper (1493). Gascoigne: Memories (1575). FIELDING: Corent Garden Tragedy, act ii. sc. 6. BICKERSTAFF: Love in a Village, act iii. sc. 1.

2 See Heywood, page 12. 3 See Heywood, page 13.

4 The allegorical poem of The Horlat was composed about the middle of the fifteenth century. Of the personal history of the author no kind of information has been discovered. Printed by the Bannatyne Club, 1823.


Treason doth never prosper: what's the reason ?
Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason.

Epigrams. Book iv. Ep. 5.

SAMUEL DANIEL. 1562-1619.

As that the walls worn thin, permit the mind
To look out thorough, and his frailty find.2

History of the Civil War. Book iv. Stanza 84. Sacred religion! mother of form and fear.

Musophilus. Stanza 57, And for the few that only lend their ear, That few is all the world.

Stanza 97. This is the thing that I was born to do.

Stanza 100. And who (in time) knows whither we may vent

The treasure of our tongue? To what strange shores This gain of our best glory shall be sent

T'enrich unknowing nations with our stores ?
What worlds in the yet unformed Occident
May come refin’d with th' accents that are ours ? :

Stanza 163.
Unless above himself he can
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!

To the Countess of Cumberland. Stanza 12. Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born.

To Delia. Sonnet 51.

1 Prosperum ac felix scelus

Virtus vocatur
(Successful and fortunate crime is called virtue).

SENECA : Merc. Furens, ii. 250.
2 The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.

Waller : Verses upon his Dirine Poesy. 3 Westward the course of empire takes its way. – BERKELEY : On the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America.


Had in him those brave translunary things
That the first poets had.

(Said of Marlowe.) To Henry Reynolds, of Poets and Poesy. For that fine madness still he did retain Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.

Ibid. The coast was clear.1

Nymphidia. When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou might'st him yet recover.

Ideas. An Allusion to the Eaglets. lxi.



Comparisons are odious.?

Lust's Dominion. Act ii. Sc. 4. I’m armed with more than complete steel, The justice of my quarrel.:

Ibid. Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ? 4

Ilero and Leander.
Come live with me, and be my love;
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Woods or steepy mountain yields.

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.

i SOMERVILLE : The Night-Walker. 2 See Fortescue, page 7.

3 Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,

And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

SHAKESPEARE: Henry VI. act iii. sc. 2. 4 The same in Shakespeare's As You Like It. Compare Chapman, page 35.

By shallow rivers, to whose falls 1
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies.

Ibid. Infinite riches in a little room. The Jew of Malta. Act i. Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.

Ibid. Now will I show myself to have more of the serpent than the dove; 2 that is, more knave than fool. Act i. Love me little, love me long :

Act iv. When all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven. Faustus. Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Iliuin ? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss ! Her lips suck forth my soul : * see, where it flies !

Ibid. Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

Ibid. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is A pollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Ibid.

1 To shallow rivers, to whose falls

Melodious birds sings madrigals ;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
SHAKESPEARE : Merry Wires of Windsor, act iii.

8c. i. (Sung by Evans). 2 Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves. — Matthew 2. 16. 3 See Heywood, page 16.

4 Once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips.

TENNYSON : Fatima, stanza 3.
5 Oh, withered is the garland of the war !
The soldier's pole is fallen.

SHAKESPEARE: Antony and Cleopatra, act iv. sc. 13.


(From the text of Clark and Wrighi.) I would fain die a dry death. The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

Ibid. What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time?

Sc. 2. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind.


Like one
Who having into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie.


My library Was dukedom large enough.

Ibid, Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

Ibid. From the still-vexed Bermoothes.

Ibid. I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently,

Ibid. Fill all thy bones with aches.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands :
Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd
The wild waves whist.

Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes :

Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.


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