Thou hast a sort of pretty tales in store;
Dare say no nymph in Ida's woods has more.
Again, besides thy sweet alluring face,
In telling them thou hast a special grace.
Then prithee, sweet, afford some pretty thing,
Some toy that from thy pleasant wit doth spring.
E. Paris, my heart's contentment and my choice,
Use thou thy pipe, and I will use my voice;
So shall thy just request not be denied,
And time well spent, and both be satisfied.
P. Well, gentle nymph, although thou do me wrong,
That can ne tune my pipe into a song ;
Me list this once, Enone, for thy sake
This idle task on me to undertake.
399. F. O lady, he is dead and gone!
Lady, he's dead and gone!
And at his head a green grass turf,
And at his heels a stone.
Within these holy cloisters long
He languish'd, and he died,
Lamenting of a lady's love,
And plaining of her pride.
Here bore him, barefac'd on his bier,
Six proper youths and tall,
And many a tear bedew'd his grave,
Within yon kirk-yard wall.
L. And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!
And art thou dead and gone!
And didst thou die for love of me?
Break cruel heart of stone!
400. V. Forbear all words, and follow me no more. Now am I free to wander where I list,
To howl i'the desert with the midnight winds,
And fearless be amidst all fearful things.
The storm has been with me, and I am left
Torn and uprooted, and laid in the dust
With those whom after-blasts rend not again.
I am in the dark gulf where no light is;
I am on the deep bed of sunken floods,
Whose swoln and welt'ring billows rise no more
To bear the tossed wreck back to the strand.
L. O say not so: heav'n doth in its good time
Send consolation to the sharpest woe.
It still in kindness sends to the tried soul
Its keenest sufferings: so say holy men,
And therein good men trust.
401. I could be well mov'd if I were as you;
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth shine;
But there's but one in all doth hold his place.
So, in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive:
Yet in the number I do know but one
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshak'd of motion; and, that I am he,
Let me a little show it even in this
That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd
And constant do remain to keep him so.
402. So to the sea we came
A world of waters heaped up on high,
Rolling on like mountains in wild wildernesse,
Horrible, hideous, roaring with hoarse cry.
And is the sea, quoth Coridon, so fearfull?
Fearful much more, quoth he, than heart can feare:
Thousand wild beasts, with deep mouths gaping
direfull,
Therein still wait poor passengers to teare..
Who life doth loathe, and longs death to behold
Before he die, already dead with feare,
And yet would live with heart halfe stony cold,
Let him to sea, and he shall see it there.
And yet, as ghastly dreadfull as it seemes,
Bold men, presuming life for gain to sell,
Dare tempt that gulfe, and in those wand'ring streams Seek waies unknown, waies leading down to hell. 403. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,
At
every
fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smil'd! I have oft heard
My mother Circe, with the Sirens three,
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades,
Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs;
Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,
And lap it in Elysium; Scylla wept
And chid her barking waves into attention,
And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause.
The Dardans from the wall,
With courage and alacrity renew'd,
Their missiles hurl, their shouts redoubling raise :
As when a legion of Strymonian cranes
Under black clouds make signal, and pursue
Their airy flight, before the southern wind
Sailing with cries of joy. Amazement held
Th' Ausonian leaders, till the fleet they saw
Approach to land, a floating sea of ships:
The Dardan's helmet beam'd, his crest flash'd fire,
Outblaz'd the golden circle of the shield
As fearfully, as when a comet shoots
His sanguine glare athwart th' unclouded night;
Or as the rising Dogstar, whose red flame
Sheds pestilence and drought on mortal men,
And dreariment on all the face of heaven.
405. S. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to death?
Myself and Beaufort had him in protection;
And we, I hope sir, are no murderers.
W. But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's
foes;
And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep :
'Tis like, you would not feast him like a friend:
And 'tis well seen he found an enemy.
Q. Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen
As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death.
W. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
406. T. J'écoute comme vous ce que l'honneur m'inspire, Seigneur; mais il m'engage à sauver mon empire. P. Si vous voulez sauver l'un ou l'autre aujourd'hui,
Prévenons Alexandre, et marchons contre lui.
T. L'audace et le mépris sont d'infidèles guides.
P. La honte suit de près les courages timides.
T. Le peuple aime les rois qui savent l'épargner.
P. Il estime encore plus ceux qui savent regner.
T. Ces conseils ne plairont qu'à des âmes hautaines.
P. Ils plairont à des rois, et peut-être à des reines.
T La reine, à vous ouïr, n'a des yeux que pour vous.
P. Un esclave est pour elle un objet de courroux.
T. Mais croyez-vous, Seigneur, que l'amour vous
ordonne
D'exposer avec vous son peuple et sa personne?
Non, non, sans vous flatter, avouez qu'en ce jour
Vous suivez votre haine et non pas votre amour.
407. T. Commencez, Polynice, embrassez votre frère,
Et montrez.-E. Hé, Madame, à quoi bon ce mystère ?
Tous ces embrassemens ne sont guère à propos;
Qu'il parle, qu'il s'explique, et nous laisse en repos.
P. Quoi! faut-il davantage expliquer mes pensées ?
On les peut découvrir par les choses passées :
La guerre, les combats, tant de sang répandu,
Tout cela dit assez que le trône m'est dû.
E. Et ces mêmes combats, et cette même guerre,
Ce sang qui tant de fois a fait rougir la terre,
Tout cela dit assez que le trône est à moi;
Et tant que je respire, il ne peut être à toi.
P. Tu sais qu'injustement tu remplis cette place.
E. L'injustice me plaît, pourvu que je t'en chasse.
P. Si tu n'en veux sortir, tu pourras en tomber.
E. Si je tombe, avec moi tu pourras succomber.
408. O Dieu, que je me vois cruellement décue!
N'avais-je tant pressé cette fatale vue
Que pour les désunir encore plus que jamais ?
Ah, mes fils, est-ce là comme on parle de paix?
Quittez, au nom des dieux, ces tragiques pensées;
Ne renouvelez point vos discordes passées :
Vous n'êtes pas ici dans un champ inhumain :
Est-ce moi qui vous mets les armes à la main?
Considérez ces lieux où vous prîtes naissance :
Leur aspect sur vos cœurs n'ait-il point de puis-
sance?
C'est ici que tous deux vous recûtes le jour :
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