exhibits a glorious proof of the homage which our great bard receives from the noblest of mankind.

We will now, however, proceed with our citations.

THE EFFECTS OF LOVE.

FROM 'LOVE'S LABOUR LOST.'

But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But, with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power,
And gives to every power a double power
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;
And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods
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 ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility.

DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER.

FROM AS YOU LIKE IT.'

A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable spirit; which you have not a beard neglected; which you have not:- -but I pardon you for that; for, simply, your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue: -Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation. But you are no such man; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements; as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other.

How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,

And to the nightingale's complaining notes
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.

O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;

Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!

And why not death, rather than living torment?
To die is to be banish'd from myself;
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her
Is self from self; a deadly banishment!
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?
Unless it be to think that she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection.
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon :
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence

Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive.
I fly not death; to fly is deadly doom:
Tarry I here, I but attend on death:
But, fly I hence, I fly away from life.

F

LOVE NOT TO BE QUENCHED.

FROM THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.'

Julia. Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow,

As seek to quench the fire of love with words.

Lucetta. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; But qualify the fire's extreme rage,

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason.

Julia. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns;

The current that with gentle murmur glides,

Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,

He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;

And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport, to the wild ocean.
Then let me go, and hinder not my course:
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,

Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

CONTEMPT OF LOVE PUNISHED.

FROM THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

I have done penance for contemning love;
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs;
For, in revenge of my contempt of love,

Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes,
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.

O, gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord,

And hath so humbled me, as, I confess,

There is no woe to his correction,

Nor to his service, no such joy on earth!

Now, no discourse, except it be of love;

Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very naked name of love.

CONCEALED LOVE.

FROM THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.'

She never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud;
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought;

And with a green and yellow melancholy,

She sat like patience on a monument,

Smiling at grief.