Part 112 (1/2)

(5) _Ophelia_ (sings).

White his shroud as the mountain snow Larded with sweet flowers, Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers.

_Hamlet_, act iv, sc. 5 (35).

(6) _Queen._

Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers.

_Cymbeline_, act i, sc. 5 (1).

(7) _Song._

Hark! hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings, And Phbus 'gins to rise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies.

_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 3 (21).

(8) _Arviragus._

With fairest flowers, While summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 2 (218).

(9) _Belarius._

Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more; The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces.

You were as flowers, now withered; even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strew.

_Ibid._ (283).

(10) _Juliet._

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act ii, sc. 2 (121).

(11) _t.i.tania._

An odorous chaplet of sweet summer-buds.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (110).

(12) _Friar Laurence._

I must up-fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers.