Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night

Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,

But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cheru-
bims,-

Such harmony is in immortal souls ;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn!
With sweetest touches pierce your mis.
tress' ear,

And draw her home with music.

THE LOVE OF MUSIC A TEST OF CHARACTER.

THE man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils :
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Midsummer Night's Dream.

I SAW, but thou could'st not, Flying between the cold moon and the earth,

Cupid all-armed: a certain aim he took

his bow,

Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.

And will you rent our ancient love asunder,

To join with men in scorning your poor friend?

It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly:
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.

BEATRICE.

Much Ado about Nothing.

DISDAIN and scorn ride sparkling in her

eyes,

Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak; she cannot
love,

Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared,

I never yet saw man,

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured,

But she would spell him backward; if fair-faced,

She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister;

If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic,

Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill

headed;

If low, an agate very vilely cut:

If speaking, why a vane blown with all winds:

If silent, why a block moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out; And never gives to truth and virtue, that Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

SIGH NO MORE, LADIES.
SIGH no more, ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore;
To one thing constant never:
Then sigh not so,

But let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny;
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye:
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is
stopp'd;

Love's feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails;

Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste;

For valour, is not love a Hercules, Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? Subtle as sphinx; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; [the gods And, when love speaks, the voice of all Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony, Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs:

O, then his lines would ravage savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility.

WINTER.

WHEN icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home i' the

pail;

When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whoo!

Tu-whit; tu-whoo! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drown the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marion's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tu-whoo!

Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

SERENADE TO SYLVIA.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona.

WHO is Sylvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her!