Part 24

JAMES ALDRICH.

7. She is wise, if I can judge of her, And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, And true she is, as she hath proved herself.

Merchant of Venice.

8. Right from the hand of God her spirit came Unstain'd, and she hath ne'er forgotten whence It came, nor wander'd far from thence, But laboreth to keep her still the same, Near to her place of birth, that she may not Soil her white raiment with an earthly spot.

J. R. LOWELL.

9. With her mien she enamors the brave, With her wit she engages the free, With her modesty pleases the grave; She is every way pleasing to thee.

SHENSTONE.

10. I would my horse had the speed of her tongue.

Much Ado About Nothing.

11. As through the hedge-row shade the violet steals, And the sweet air its modest leaf reveals, Her softer charms, but by their influence known, Surprise all hearts, and mould them to her own.

ROGERS.

12. Full many a lady You have eyed with best regard, and many a time, The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought your too diligent ear; for several virtues You have liked several women; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil: But she, O she, So perfect and so peerless, is created Of every creature's best!

Tempest.

13. She is all simplicity, A creature soft and mild; Though on the eve of womanhood, In heart a very child.

MRS. WELBY.

14. Who does not understand and love her, With feeling thus o'erfraught? Though silent as the sky above her, Like that, she kindles thought.

DR. GILMAN.

15. Sacred and sweet is all I see in her.

Taming of the Shrew.

16. She is Happy in all endowments, which a poet Could fancy in his mistress; being herself A school of goodness, where chaste maids may learn, By the example of her life and pureness, To be, as she is, excellent.

MASSINGER.

17. She steps like some glad creature of the air, As if she read her fate and knew it fair; In truth, for fate at all she hath no care. Yet hath she tears as well as gladness; A butterfly in pain Will make her weep for very sadness, But straight she'll smile again.

A. M. WELLS.

18. A maiden never bold Of spirit, so still and quiet, that her motion Blush'd at itself.

Othello.

19. She saith not once nay when thou sayest yea; "Do this," saith he. "All ready, sir," saith she.

CHAUCER.

20. Every thought and feeling throw Their shadows o'er her face, And so are every thought and feeling join'd, 'Twere hard to answer whether heart or mind Of either were the native place.