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Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
says, he loves my daughter;
PRESENTS LIGHTLY REGARDED EY REAL LOVERS.
How now, fair shepherd ? Your heart is full of something, that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young, And handed love, as you do, I was wont To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour’d it To her acceptance; you have let him go, And nothing marted* with him; if your lass Interpretation should abuse; and call this Your lack of love, or bounty: you were straitedt For a reply, at least, if you make a care Of happy holding her. Flo.
Old sir, I know, She prizes not such trifles as these are : The gifts she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd Up in my heart; which I have given already, But not deliver'd.-0, hear me breathe my life Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as dove's down, and as white as it;
+ Pat to difficnlties.
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fam'd snow,
A FATHER THE BEST GUEST AT HIS SON'S NUPTIALS.
Methinks, a father
No, good sir;
By my white beard,
I was not much afeard : for once or twice,
LOVE CEMENTED BY PROSPERITY, BUT LESSENED BY
Prosperity's the very bond of loye; Wbose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
* The sieve nsed to separate flour from bran is called a boliing-cloth.
† Talk over bis affairs.
WONDER, PROCEEDING FROM SUDDEN JOY. There was a speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked, as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: A notable passion of wonder appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if the importance * were joy or sorrow: but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be.
What was he that did make it?-See, my lord, Would you not deem it breath’d? and that those veins Did verily bear blood ? Pol.
Masterly done : The very life seems warm upon her lip.
Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in'tt Asf we are mock'd with art.
Still, methinks, There is an air comes from her: Wbat fine chizzel Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kiss her.
A WIDOW COMPARED TO A TURTLE.
I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost.
* The thing imported.
i. e. Thongh her eye be fixed, it seems to have motion in it.