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Siliter for the Supurement

G loung Persons

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Suit the Sletion to the Worland the Worl to atte
Setion; with this special observance, thiul
o'erstep not the Modesty of Nature.

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Published by J Nawman, do the rest of the Propridors

Printed by SManuliten, Weybridge, Swty






Gives us free scope; only doth backward pall 11. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.

SHAKSPEARE. Impossible be strange attempts to those

That weigh their pain in sense, and do suppose. BE thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy What hath

been cannot be. Who ever strove lo manners as in shape ; thy blood and virtue

Character of a noble Courtier, by an old Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness

Cotemporary. Share with thy birth-right. Love all; trust a King. I would I had that corporal soundness few;

now, Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy

As when thy father and myself in friendship Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend First tried our soldiership! 'He did look fur Under thy own life's key; be check'd for si- Into the service of the time, and was lence

Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long; But never tax'd for speech. What Heaven But on us both did hagsish age steal on, more will,

[down, And wore us out of act. It much repairs me That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck To talk of your good father. In his youth Fall on thy head!

He had the wit which I can well observe

To day in our young lords ; but they may jest Too ambitious Love.

Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, I am undone ; there is no living, none, Ere they can hide their levity in honor : Ii Bertrain be away. It were all one, So like a courtier, con.empt 'nor bitterness That I should love a bright particular star, Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, And think to wed it, he is so above me! His equal had awak'd them; and his honor, In his bright radiance and collateral light Clock'to itself, knew the true minute when Most I be comforted, not in his sphere, Exception bid him speak ; and at that time Th'ambition in my love thus plagues itself : His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below The hind that would be mated by the lion He us'd as creatures of another place, shim Mest die for love. Twas pretty tho' a plague, And bow'd his imminent top to their low ranks, To see him every hour; to sit and draw Making them proud of his humility, His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In their poor praise he humbled; such a man in our heart's table: heart, too capable Might be a copy to these younger times, Of every line and trick of his sweet favor ! Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy


(now Most sanctify his relics.

Would I were with him!-He would always

sayA parasitical vain Coward.

(Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words I know him a notorious liar; He scatter'd not in ears; but grafted them Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; To grow there, and to bear). Let me not live' Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, -Thus his good melancholy oft began, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, Look bleak in the cold wind : withal, full oft When it was out~Let me not live,'quoth he, we see

• After my flame lacks oil; to be the snuff Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses

• All but new things disdain; whose judgeThe Remedy of Evils generally in ourselves.

[stancies Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,

Mere fathers of their garments; whose conWhich we ascribe to Heaven. The fatod sky Expire before their fashions' This he wishid

But goers

ments are

1, after him, do after him wish too,

I met the raving lion, when he roar'd --Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, With sharp constraint of hunger, better 'twere I quickly were dissolved froin my hive, That all the miseries which nature owes To give some laborer room.

Were mine at once. No, coine thou home,
Idolatrous Worship.

Thus Indian like,

Whence honor, but of danger wins a scar,
Religious in mine error, I adore

As oft it loses all. I will be gone : The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,

My being here it is, that holds thee hence. But knows of him no more!

Shall I stay here to do it? No, po, although

The air of Paradise did fan the house,
Mean Instruments often successful. And angels offic'd all: I will be gone;
What I can do, can do no hurt to try, That pitiful rumor may report iny flight,
Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy, To consolate thine ear.
He that of greatest works is finisher,

Custom of Seducers.
Oft does them by the weakest minister;

As, so you serve us,

(roses, So holy writ in babes hath judgement shown, When judges have been babes ; great floods You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves,

Till we serve you ; but when you have our have flown

And mock us with our bareness. From simple sources ; and great seas have dry'd,

Chastity. When miracles have by the greatest been deny'd. Mine honor's such a ring : Oft expectation fails, and most oft there

My chastity's the jewel of our house, Where most it promises; and oft it hits

Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.

Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world Honor due to personal Virtue, not to Birth. In me to lose. Strange is it, that our bloods, (together,

Cowardly Braggart. Whose color, weight, and heat, pour'd out

Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off "Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more: In diff'rences so mighty. If she be

But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft All that is virtuous, save what thou dislik’st,

As captain shall : simply the thing I am -A poor physician's daughter, thou dislik'st

Shall make me live. Who knows himself a Of virtue for the name, -But do not so

braggart, From lowest place when virtuous things pro- That every braggart shall be found an ass.

Let him fear this; for it will come to pass, ceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed.

Rust, sword ! cool, blushes! and Parolles, live Where great addition swells, and virtue none,

Safest in shame! being foolid, by fool'ry thrive. It is a dropsied honor ; good alone.

There's place and means for every man alive. Is good without a naine; vileness is so :

The Rashness of youth excused. The property, by what it is, should go,

I beseech your majesty to make it Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair ;

Natural rebellion, done in the blaze of youth, In these, to nature she's immediate heir; When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, And these breed honor: that is honor's scorn, O'erbear it, and burn on. Which challenges itself as honor's born,

What's lost most valued.
And is not like the sire. Honors thrive

Praising what is lost,
When rather from our acts we them derive Makes the remembrance dear.
Than our fore-goers; the mere word 's a slave

Against Delay.
Debauch'd on every tomb, on every grave; Let's take the instant by the forward top;
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,

For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
Where dust and damn’d oblivion is the tomb Th'inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Of honor'd bones indeed.

Steals, ere we can effect them.
Self-accusation of too great Love,

Excuse for unreasonable Dislike.
Poor lord ! is't I

At first
That chase thee from thy country, and expose I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Those tender limbs of thine to the event Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Of the none-sparing war? And is it I [thou Where the impression of mine cye enfixing,
That drive thee from the sportive court, where Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Which warp'd the line of every other favor ;
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, Scorned a fair color, or express'd it stolen ;
That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Extended or contracted all proportions
Fly with false aim ; move the still-piercing air, To a most hideous object : thence it came,
That sings with piercing, do not touch my That she whom all men prais'd, and whom
lord !

Whoever shoots at him, I set him there : Since I have lost, have lovd, was in my eye
Whoever charges on his forward breast, The dust that did offend it.
I am the caitiff that do hold him to it:

Impediments stimulate.
And though I kill him not, I am the cause As “all impediments in fancy's course
His death was so effected. Better 'twere Are motives of mere fancy."

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