ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
ONE GOOD WOMAN IN TEN.
AS this fair face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy?
Fond done, done fond,
Was this King Priam's joy?
With that she sighed as she stood,
With that she sighed as she stood,
And gave this sentence then :
Among nine bad if one be good,
Among nine bad if one be good,
There's yet one good in ten.
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
VER hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs* upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see,
These be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
* The rings on the sward, dried up by the feet of the fairies in dancing their rounds.
You spotted, snakes, with double tongue,
Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen;
Newts, and blind-worms,, do no wrong;
Come not near our fairy queen:
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby;
Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby;
Never harm, nor spell nor charm,
Come our lonely lady nigh;
So, good night, with lullaby.
Weaving spiders, come not here:
Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence: Beetles black, approach not near; Worm, nor snail, do no offence.
Philomel, with melody, &c.
HE woosel-cock,* so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note, so true,
The wren with little quill;
The finch, the sparrow, and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer, nay.
THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT-THE APPROACH OF THE FAIRIES.
NOW the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon ;
Whilst the heavy ploughman, snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves, all gaping wide,
Everyone lets forth his sprite,
In the churchway paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic; not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house:
I am sent with broom before,
Το sweep the dust behind the door.
Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf, and fairy sprite,
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty after me,
Sing, and dance it, trippingly.
First, rehearse this song by rote;
To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
We will sing, and bless this place.
Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;.
And the blots of nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait;
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace with sweet peace:
Ever shall in safety rest,
And the owner of it blessed.
Meet me all by break of day.
THE BIRTH AND DEATH OF FANCY.
ELL me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourishèd?
It is engendered in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies:
Let us all ring fancy's knell;
I'll begin it,-Ding, dong, bell.
Ding, dong, bell.
*Fancy is constantly used by Shakespeare and his contemporaries
ALL that glisters is not gold,
Often have you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold;
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscrolled;
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
The fire seven times tried this;
Seven times tried that judgment is
That did never choose amiss:
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss;
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silvered o'er; and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed, ́
I will ever be your head:
So begone: you are sped.
You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true!
Since this fortune falls to you,
Be content, and seek no new.
If you be well pleased with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Turn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving kiss.
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