Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
As doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.
I hold it cowardice
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love.
Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward!
Thou little valiant, great in villany!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety!
Dost thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.
Milk-liver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs,
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honor from thy suffering.
Wouldst thou have that
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem,
Letting "I dare not" wait upon, "I would";
Like the poor cat i' the adage?
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk.
That which in mean men we entitle patience
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!—I afear'd of him!—A very weak monster!
—The man i' the moon!—A most poor, credulous
monster!—Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!
A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it.
Timidus se vocat cautum, parcum sordidus.
The coward calls himself cautious, the miser thrifty.
Ignavissimus quisque, et ut res docuit, in periculo non ausurus, nimis verbis et lingua feroces.
Every recreant who proved his timidity in the hour of danger, was afterwards boldest in words and tongue.
The man that lays his hand on woman,
Save in the way of kindness, is a wretch
Whom 'twere gross flattery to name a coward.
Adieu, canaux, canards, canaille.
COWSLIP
Primula
Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on a cliff.
Yet soon fair Spring shall give another scene.
And yellow cowslips gild the level green.
And wild-scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale.
Ilk cowslip cup shall kep a tear.
The nesh yonge coweslip bendethe wyth the dewe.
The cowslip is a country wench.
The first wan cowslip, wet
With tears of the first morn.
Through tall cowslips nodding near you,
Just to touch you as you pass.
Thus I set my printless feet
O'er the cowslip's velvet head,
That bends not as I tread.
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet and green clover.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see:
Those be rubies, fairy favours;
In those freckles live their savours.
And ye talk together still,
In the language wherewith Spring
Letters cowslips on the hill.
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.
