Again restored, illumed the dying hours; But reason dwelt where fancy stray'd before, And the mind wander'd from its views no more; Till death approach'd, when every look express'd A sense of bliss, till every sense had rest. The mother lives, and has enough to buy The attentive ear and the submissive eye Of abject natures--these are daily told, How triumph'd beauty in the days of old; How, by her window seated, crowds have cast Admiring glances, wondering as they pass'd; How from her carriage as she stepp'd to pray, Divided ranks would humbly make her way; And how each voice in the astonish'd throng Pronounced her peerless as she moved along. Her picture then the greedy Dame displays; Touch'd by no shame, she now demands its praise; In her tall mirror then she shows a face, Still coldly fair with unaffecting grace; These she compares: "It has the form," she cries, "But wants the air, the spirit, and the eyes; This, as a likeness, is correct and true, But there alone the living grace we view." This said, th' applauding voice the Dame requir'd, And, gazing, slowly from the glass retired. TALE IX. ARABELLA. Thrice blessed they that master so their blood - But earthly happier is the rose distill'd, Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. SHAKESPEARE, Midsummer Night's Dream. I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage whom I dearly love. Measure for Measure. Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! Much Ado about Nothing. --------------------------