XIV. ON TIME. LY, envious Time! till thou run out thy race; Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain ! For when as each thing bad thou hast entombed, And last of all thy greedy self consumed, Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss With an individual kiss ; And Joy shall overtake us as a flood, When everything that is sincerely good And perfectly divine, With Truth, and Peace, and Love, shall ever shine About the supreme throne Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Then, all this earthly grossness quit, Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time! J. Milton. XV. SONG. IS sweet to hear the merry lark, That bids a blithe good morrow; But sweeter to hark in the twinkling dark, To the soothing song of sorrow. Oh nightingale! What doth she ail? And is she sad or jolly? For ne'er on earth, was sound of mirth The merry lark, he soars on high, No worldly thought o'ertakes him; The nightingale is trilling ; Yet, ever and anon, a sigh, Peers through her lavish mirth ; By night and day, she tunes her lay, For bliss, alas! to-night must pass, Hartley Coleridge. K. John. XVI. KING JOHN. ACT III. SCENE III. KING JOHN and HUBERT. OME hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor, And with advantage means to pay thy love: Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty. K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. I had a thing to say,—but let it go : The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, Had baked thy blood and made it heavy-thick, Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? No, indeed, is't not; and I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. Hub. [Aside] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy which lies dead : Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day : In sooth, I would you were a little sick, That I might sit all night and watch with you. I warrant I love you more than you do me. Hub. [Aside] His words do take possession of my bosom. Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper. [Aside] How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief, lest resolution drop Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Arth. Hub. And will you? And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkercher about your brows, The best I had, a princess wrought it me, And I did never ask it you again; And with my hand at midnight held your head, Still and anon cheered up the heavy time, Saying, 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?' Hub. XVII. KING JOHN. ACT IV. SCENE I.-A Room in a Castle. Enter HUBERT and Executioners. EAT me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras: when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, And bind the boy which you shall find with me Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. First Exec. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! fear not you look to't. [Exeunt Executioners. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Enter ARTHUR. Good morrow, little prince. Arth. As little prince, having so great a title To be more prince, as may be. You are sad. Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. Arth. Mercy on me! Methinks no body should be sad but I : * Christendom, the state of being a Christian. |