TRUTH.

(Henry the Fourth.)

HOTSPUR-OWEN GLENDOWER-MORTIMER.

Glendower. SIT, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur, For by that name as oft as Lancaster

Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale and with

A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven.

Hotspur. And you in hell, as oft as he hears Owen

Glendower spoke of.

Glendower. I cannot blame him: at my nativity

The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,

Of burning cressets; and at my birth

The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shaked like a coward.

Hotspur. Why, so it would have done at the same season, if your mother's cat had but kittened, though yourself had never been born.

Glendower. I say the earth did shake when I was born. Hotspur. And I say the earth was not of my mind,

If you suppose as fearing you it shook.

Glendower. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble. Hotspur. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire, And not in fear of your nativity.

Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth

In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth

Is with a kind of colic pinched and vexed

By the imprisoning of unruly wind

Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down

Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth

Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.

Glendower.

Cousin, of many men

I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
To tell you once again that at my birth
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have marked me extraordinary;
And all the courses of my life do show

I am not in the roll of common men.

Where is he living, clipped in with the sea

That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales,
Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me?

And bring him out that is but woman's son
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art
And hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hotspur. I think there's no man speaks better Welsh. I'll to dinner.

Mortimer. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad. Glendower. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. Hotspur. Why, so can I or so can any man; But will they come when you do call for them?

Glendower. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command
The devil.

Hotspur. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil
By telling truth: tell truth and shame the devil.
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence.
O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil!

W. Shakespeare.

UNA AND THE LION.

(Faery Queen.)

YET she, most faithful lady, all this while
Forsaken, woful, solitary maid,

Far from all people's preace, as in exile,
In wilderness and wasteful deserts strayed,
To seek her knight; who, subtilely betrayed

Through that late vision which th' enchanter wrought,
Had her abandoned; she of nought afraid,

Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought, Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought.

One day, nigh weary of the irksome way,
From her unhasty beast she did alight;
And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay
In secret shadow, far from all men's sight:
From her fair head her fillet she undight,
And laid her stole aside: Her angel's face,
As the great eye of heaven, shinèd bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place;
Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.

It fortunèd, out of the thickest wood
A ramping lion rushèd suddenly,
Hunting full greedy after savage blood.
Soon as the royal virgin he did spy,

With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,

To have at once devoured her tender corse;
But to the prey when as he drew more nigh,
His bloody rage assaugèd with remorse

And, with the sight amazed, forgat his furious force.

Instead thereof, he kissed her weary feet,
And licked her lily hands with fawning tongue;
As he her wrongèd innocence did weet.
O how can beauty master the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pride and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had markèd long,
Her heart gan melt in great compassion;
And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection.

'The lion, lord of every beast in field,'
Quoth she, his princely puissance doth abate,
And mighty proud to humble weak does yield,
Forgetful of the hungry rage, which late
Him pricked in duty of my sad estate :-
But he, my lion, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruel heart to hate
Her, that him loved, and ever most adored

As the god of my life? why hath he me abhorred ?'

Redounding tears did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly echoed from the neighbouring wood;
And, sad to see her sorrowful constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pity calmed, down fell his angry mood.
At last, in close heart shutting up her pain,
Arose the virgin, born of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfery got again,

To seek her strayèd champion if she might attain.

The lion would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along, as a strong guard
Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard;

Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;
And, when she waked, he waited diligent,
With humble service to her will prepared :
From her fair eyes he took commandëment,
And ever by her looks conceived her intent.

E. Spenser.

THE NIGHT BEFORE AGINCOURT. (Henry the Fifth.)

Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

From camp to camp through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds,

That the fixed sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch:
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umbered face:
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear, and from the tents
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation :

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;

D