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Love increased by Attempts to suppress it. Julia. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love ; Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, As seek to quench the fire of love with words. LUCETTA. I do not seek to quench your love's hot
fire ; But qualify the fire's extreme rage, Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. Julia. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it
The current, that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopp’d, impatiently doth rage ;
But, when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with the enamell’d stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ;
And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course ;
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love ;
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.
A faithful Lover.
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ;
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ;
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart,
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
Presents prevail with Woman.
Win her with gifts, if she respect not words ;
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind,
More than quick words do move a woman's mind.
Beauty petitioning in vain.
Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom,
(Which unreversed, stands in effectual force),
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears :
Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd;
With them, upon her knees, her humble self;
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them,
As if but now they waxed pale for woe ;
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Three Things in Man disliked by Women.
The best way is to slander Valentine
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent;
Three things that women highly hold in hate.
The Power of Poetry with Women.
Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart
Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears
Moist it again, and frame some feeling line,
That may discover such integrity :-
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews ;
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.
A Lover in Solitude.
How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless ;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Sylvia ;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain !
What dangerous action, stood it next to death,
Would I not undergo for one calm look ?
O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approved,
When women cannot love where they're beloved.
Infidelity in a Friend.
Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus,
I am sorry I must never trust thee more,
But count the world a stranger for thy sake.
The private wound is deepest.
Who by repentance is not satisfied,
Is not of heaven nor earth.
Inconstancy in Man.
O heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect : that one error
Fills him with faults.
Polixenes, King of Bohemia, is on a visit to his friend Leontes, King of Sicilia, and is about to take his leave, when he is induced, chiefly by the courteous solicitations of Hermione wife of Leontes, to prolong his visit. Suddenly Leontes, who has hitherto been a kind husband, changes his love for Hermione to the bitterest hate, orders her to prison, and commands Antigonus, a Sicilian lord, to take away her infant daughter, and leave the child exposed in a remote and desert place in Bohemia. An old shepherd finds the little princess and brings her up as his own child under the name of Perdita. When she has arrived at womanhood, she is encountered by Florizel, the son of Polixenes, and they become enamoured of each other, she being then supposed to be the daughter of the old shepherd. The play concludes with the discovery of the royal descent of Perdita, and Hermione (who for a number of years has been supposed to be dead, but who has been only in concealment) is restored to Leontes, who deeply repents of his cruel persecution of her.
Fondness of a Father for his Child.
If at home, sir,
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter :
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy :
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all :
He makes a July’s day short as December :
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.
To do this deed,
Promotion follows ; if I could find example
Of thousands, that had struck anointed kings,
And flourished after, I'd not do’t: but since
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one,
Let villany itself forswear't.
Eloquence of silent Innocence. The silence often of pure innocence Persuades, when speaking fails.
Exposing an Infant. Come on, poor babe : Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say, Casting their savageness aside, have done Like offices of pity.
Innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience.