My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear;
And I will stoop and humble my intents
To your well-practis'd, wise directions.
VIII.-ROMEO'S DESCRIPTION OF AN APOTHECARY.
O MISCHIEF, thou art swift
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
I do remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts he dwells, whom late I noted
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses,
Were thinly scatter'd to make up a show.
Noting this penury, to myself I said,
An' if a man did need a poison now,
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.
Oh, this same thought did but forerun my need;
And this same needy man must sell it me.
As I remember, this should be the house :
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
IX. THE WORLD COMPARED TO A STAGE.
ALL the world's a stage;
And all the men and women, merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man, in his time, plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.-At first, the INFANT,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And, then, the whining SCHOOL-BOY, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping, like snail,
Unwillingly to school.-And, then, the LOVER;
Sighing like furnace; with a woeful ballad,
Made to his mistress' eyebrow.Then, the SOLDIER
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard;
Jealous in honour; sudden and quick in quarrel;
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the JUSTICE;
In fair round belly, with good capon lin❜d;
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut;
Full of wise saws and modern instances:
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd PANTALOON;
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shanks; and his big manly voice
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.-Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
IS SECOND CHILDISHNESS, and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Adam.-What, my young master! Oh, my gentle master !
Oh, my sweet master! Oh, you memory
Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what makes you here?
Why are you virtuous? why do people love you
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ?
Why would you be so fond to overcome
The bony prizer of the hum'rous Duke?
Your praise is come too quickly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.
Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!
Orlan. Why, what's the matter?
Adam. Oh, unhappy youth,
Come not within these doors; within this roof
The enemy of all your graces lives:
Your brother (no; no brother; yet the son;
Yet not the son; I will not call him son,
Of him I was about to call his father)
Hath heard your praises, and this night he means
To burn the lodging where you used to lie,
And you within it; if he fail of that,
He will have other means to cut you off.
I overheard him and his practices:
This is no place, this house is but a butchery;
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
Orlan. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here.
Orlan. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base and boist'rous sword enforce
A thievish living on the common road ?
This must I do, or know not what to do:
Yet this I will not do, do how I can ;
I rather will subject me to the malice
Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred crowns,
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father,
Which I did store to be my foster-nurse,
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,
And unregarded age in corners thrown:
Take that; and He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold;
All this I give you, let me be your servant:
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility;
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly; let me go with you;
I'll do the service of a younger man
In all your business and necessities.
Orlan.-O! good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat, but for promotion;
And, having that, do choke their service up
Ev'n with the having: 'tis not so with thee;
But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree,
That cannot so much as a blossom yield
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
But come thy ways, we'll go along together,
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent,
We'll light upon some settled low content.
Adam.-Master, go on and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
XI. RICHMOND ENCOURAGING HIS SOLDIERS.
THUS far into the bowels of the land
Have we marched on without impediment.
Richard, the bloody and devouring boar,1
Whose ravenous appetite has spoiled your fields,
Laid this rich country waste, and rudely cropped
Its ripened hopes of fair posterity,
Is now even in the centre of the isle.
Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just;
1 In allusion to the badge of Richard, which was a silver Boar.
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted:
The very weight of Richard's guilt shall crush him—
Then, let us on, my friends, and boldly face him!
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man
As mild behaviour and humanity;
But, when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this body on the earth's cold face;
But, if we thrive, the glory of the action
The meanest soldier here shall share his part of.
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords,
Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully;
The word's-" St. George, Richmond, and Victory!"
I. HOTSPUR READING A LETTER.
"BUT, for mire own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.” He could be contented to be there! Why is he not, then? "In respect of the love he bears our house." He shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house! Let me see some more. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous." Why, that's certain, 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself, unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of so great an opposition." Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this! Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant; a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty
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