Of thrice three times the value of this bond.

Shy. O father Abraham, what these Christians

are

Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this:
If he should break his day, what should I gain
By the exaction of the forfeiture?

A pound of man's flesh taken from a man
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say
To buy his favor, I extend this friendship:
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu:

And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not,
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him directions for this merry bond,

And I will go and purse the ducats straight;
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently

I will be with you.

Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew,

This Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kina.

DIRGE FOR IMOGEN

(From "Cymbeline")

EAR no more the heat o' the sun,

FEAR Nor the furious winter's rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone and ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The scepter, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!

PRAISE OF ROSALIND

(From "As You Like It ")

IY should this desert silent be?

For it is unpeopled? No;

Tongues I'll hang on every tree
That shall civil saying show:
Some, how brief the life of man
Runs his erring pilgrimage,
That the stretching of a span
Buckles in his sum of age;
Some of violated vows

"Twixt the souls of friend and friend.

But upon the fairest boughs,

Or at every sentence end,

Will I Rosalind a write,

Teaching all that read to know The quintessance of every sprite

Heaven would in little show. Therefore Heaven Nature charged That one body should be filled With all graces wide enlarged: Nature presently distilled

Helen's cheek, but not her heart,
Cleopatra's majesty,
Atalanta's better part,

Sad Lucretia's modesty.
Thus Rosalind of many parts

By heavenly synod was devised,
Of many faces, eyes, and hearts

To have the touches dearest prized.
Heaven would that she these gifts should have.

MACBETH SURROUNDED

(From "Macbeth")

Macbeth. Hang out our banners on the outward walls,

The cry is still, "They come!" Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie

Till famine and the ague eat them up.

Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home.-What is that noise? Seyton. It is the cry of woman, my good lord. [A cry within of women.]

[Exit. Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cooled To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir

As life were in it. I have supped full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,

Cannot once start me.

[Re-enter SEYTON.

Wherefore was that cry?

Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.

Macb. She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to-day

To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

[Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to use thy tongue: thy story, quickly!

Mess.

I shall report that which I say I saw,

But know not how to do it.

Macb.

Gracious my lord,

Well, say sir.

Mess. As I stand my watch upon the hill

I looked toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.

Macb.

Liar and slave! [Striking him. Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming;

I say, a moving grove.

Macb.

If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,

Till famine cling thee. If thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.

I pull in resolution and begin

To doubt the equivocation of the fiend

That lies like truth: "Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane:" and now a wood

Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out!
If this which he avouches does appear,

There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.

I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,

And wish the estate of the world were now undone. Ring the alarum bell! Blow wind! come wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.

CARDINAL WOLSEY

(From "Henry VIII.")

Griffith. About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears and sorrows,
He gave his honors to the world again,

His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.
Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him.
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him,
And yet with charity. He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking
Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion,
Tied all the kingdom; simony was fair play;
His own opinion was his law; i' the presence
He would say untruths; and be ever double
Both in his words and meaning; he was never,
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful.
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill-example.

Grif.

Noble madam,

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness,

To hear me speak his good now?

Kath.

I were malicious else.

Grif.

Yes, good Griffith;

The Cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashioned to much honor from his cradle.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;
But to those that sought him sweet as summer.
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam,