Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin, To speak a truth. 398 The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim 399 Alas, how is 't with you? 19-i. 1. That you do bend your eye on vacancy, 400 A dagger of the mind; a false creation, 401 This is mere madness: And thus a while the fit will work on him; 1-ii. I. 36-iii. 4. 15-ii. 1. When that her golden couplets are disclosed, C 36-v. 1. Divided from herself, and her fair judgment; Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts. 404 She is importunate; indeed, distract; Her mood will needs be pitied. 36-iv. 5. The hair of animals is excrementitious, that is, without life or sensation. c Hatched. She speaks much of her father; says, she hears, There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart; Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection; they aima at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures, yield them, Indeed would make one think, there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. 405 Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can 36-iv. 5. Her heart inform her tongue: the swan's down feather, That stands upon the swell at full of tide, And neither way inclines. 406 He was met even now 30-iii. 2. As mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud! 407 Some strange commotion Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts; Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then lays his finger on his temple; straight, Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again, Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts 34-iv.4. His eye against the moon; in most strange postures We have seen him set himself. 25-iii. 2. 408 The exterior, not the inward man Resembles that it was. d Guess. 36-ii. 2. 306 PAINTINGS OF NATURE AND THE PASSIONS. 409 Mad let us grant him then; and now remains, 410 36-ii. 2. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself; And skip, when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook, Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit? call the creatures,Whose naked natures live in all the spite Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks, To the conflicting elements exposed, Answer mere nature,-bid them flatter thee. 27-iv. 3. |