“If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet[134] Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods; Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils: The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.” And in the _Two Gentlemen of Verona_ (act iii. sc. 2, l. 68, vol. i. p. 129), the method is developed by which Silvia, through the conversation of Proteus, may be tempered “to hate young Valentine” and Thurio love. Proteus says,— “You must lay lime to tangle her desires By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. _Duke._ Ay, Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. _Pro._ Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again; and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity: For Orpheus’ lute was strung with poets’ sinews; Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones. Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.”[135] Again, in proof of Music’s power, consult _Henry VIII._ (act iii. sc. 1, l. 1, vol. vi. p. 56), when Queen Katharine, in her sorrowfulness, says to one of her women who were at work around her,— “Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles; Sing and disperse ’em if thou canst: leave working.” The sweet simple song is raised,— “Orpheus with his lute made trees And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.” How splendidly does the dramatic poet’s genius here shine forth! It pours light upon each Emblem, and calls into day the hidden glories. His spirit breathes upon a dead picture, and rivalling Orpheus himself, he makes the images breathe and glance and live.