The shepherd him pursues, and to his dog doth hollo:

When, with tempestuous speed, the hounds and huntsman follow ;
Until the noble deer, through toil bereaved of strength,
His long and sinewy legs then failing him at length,
The villages attempts, enraged, not giving way
To anything he meets now at his sad decay.
The cruel ravenous hounds and bloody hunters near,
This noblest beast of chase, that vainly doth but fear,
Some bank or quickset finds: to which his haunch opposed,
He turns upon his foes, that soon have him enclosed,
The churlish-throated hounds then holding him at bay;
And as their cruel fangs on his harsh skin they lay,
With his sharp-pointed head he dealeth deadly wounds.
The hunter, coming in to help his wearied hounds,
He desperately assails; until, opprest by force,
He who the mourner is to his own dying corse,
Upon the ruthless earth his precious tears lets fall.

Polyolbion, Thirteenth Song

Queen Mab's Chariot.

Her chariot ready straight is made,
Each thing therein is fitting laid,
That she by nothing might be stay'd,

For nought must be her letting!
Four nimble gnats the horses were,
The harnesses of gossamer,

Fly Cranion, her charioteer,

Upon the coach-box getting.
Her chariot of a snail's fine shell,
Which for the colours did excel;
The fair Queen Mab becoming well,
So lively was the limning:
The seat the soft wool of the bee,
The cover (gallantly to see)
The wing of a py'd butterflee,

I trow, 'twas simple trimming.

The wheels compos'd of crickets' bones,
And daintily made for the nonce,

For fear of rattling on the stones,

With thistle-down they shod it:

For all her maidens much did fear,

If Oberon had chanc'd to hear,

That Mab his queen should have been there
He would not have abode it.

Out of eighty-eight stanzas. Nymphidia: The
Court of Fairy.

69. Sir John Davies, 1570-1626. (Handbook, pars. 103, 136.) An Irish judge. His poem on the Immortality of the Soul was written in 1599.

False and True Knowledge.

Why did my parents send me to the schools

That I with knowledge might enrich my mind, Since the desire to know first made men fools, And did corrupt the root of all mankind?

All things without, which round about we see,
We seek to know, and how therewith to do;
But that whereby we reason, live, and be,
Within ourselves, we strangers are thereto.

Is it because the mind is like the eye

..

Through which it gathers knowledge by degrees,
Whose rays reflect not, but spread outwardly,
Not seeing itself when other things it sees?

No doubtless; for the mind can backward cast,
Upon herself, her understanding light;

But she is so corrupt and so defaced

That her own image doth herself affright. . . .

Yet if Affliction once her wars begin,

And threat the feeble sense with sword and fire.
The mind contracts herself, and shrinketh in,
And to herself she gladly doth retire;

As spiders touch'd seek their web's inmost part;
As bees in storms unto their hives return;

As blood in danger gathers to the heart;

As men seek towns, when foes the country burn.

If aught can teach us aught, Affliction's looks,
Making us look unto ourselves so near,
Teach us to know ourselves beyond all books,
Or all the learned schools that ever were.

This mistress lately pluck'd me by the ear,

And many a golden lesson hath me taught;
Hath made iny senses quick, and reason clear,
Reform'd my will, and rectified my thought.

Neither Minerva, nor the learned Muse,

Nor rules of art, nor precepts of the wise,
Could in my brain those beams of skill infuse,
As but the glance of this dame's angry eyes.

I know my body's of so frail a kind,

As force without, fevers within, can kill;
I know the heavenly nature of my mind,
But 'tis corrupted both in wit and will.

I know my soul hath power to know all things,
Yet is she blind and ignorant in all:
I know I'm one of Nature's little kings,
Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.
I know my life's a pain, and but a span;

I know my sense is mock'd with everything;
And, to conclude, I know myself a man,
Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.

From The Introduction.

70. William Shakespeare, 1564-1616. (Handbook, pars. 93, 144, 255-262.)

Instead of giving lengthened extracts from Shakespeare or Milton, it is deemed more convenient to quote a few lines of passages best known, and refer the reader to the place where he may find the rest. The extracts from Shakespeare are arranged according to the three periods to which his dramas belong.

First Period.

They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd villain,

A mere anatomy.

Comedy of Errors, act v. sc. I

I never spent an hour's talk withal. Love's Labour's Lost, act ii. sc. I.

As sweet, and musical,

As bright Apollo's lute.

Ib., act iv. sc. 3.

They have been at a great feast of Languages, and have stolen the scraps.

And thereby hangs a tale.

Ib., act v. sc. 1.

Taming of the Shrew, act iv. sc. I. Othello, act iii. sc. I, etc.

She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd:

She is a woman; therefore to be won.

Henry VI., part i. act v. sc. 3.

What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted!
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. Ib., part ii. act iii. sc. 2.
He dies, and makes no sign.
Ib., act iii. sc. 3.

Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar-school; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. Ib., act iv. sc. 7.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

Ib., part iii. act v. sc. 6.

Second Period.

Richard II., act i. sc. 3.

Ib., act ii. sc. I.

Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
The ripest fruit first falls.

...

Of comfort no man speak;
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:-
:-
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war,

Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd:
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd;
All murther'd:-For within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp.

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York.
This weak piping time of peace.

To leave this keen encounter of our wits.
False, fleeting, perjured Clarence.

Richard II., act iii. sc. 2.

Richard III., act i. sc. I

Ib., act i. sc. I.

Ib., act i. sc. 2.

Ib., act i. sc. 4.

Ib., act iv. sc. 4.

Ib., act v. sc. 2.

King John, act iii. sc. I.

An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.
True hope is swift, and flies with swallows' wings,
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf-skin on those recreant limbs.
And he that stands upon a slippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
Const. He talks to me that never had a son.
K. Phi. You are as fond of grief as of your child.
Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

Ib., act iii. sc. 4.

Ib., act iii. sc. 4.

Over whose acres walked those blessed feet,

Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nailed
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,

Henry IV., part i. act i. sc. 1.

He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

Ib., act i. sc. 3.