WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER?

Nevill.—Know'st thou how slight a thing a woman is? Scudmore.—Yes; and how serious too.

None know thee but to love thee, None name thee but to praise.

2. Oh, thou wilt ever be what now thou art, Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring; As fair in form, as warm, yet pure in heart, Love's image upon earth without its sting.

3. Ever o'er thy soul a shadow lies, Still darkest, when life wears the sunniest skies; And even when with bliss thy heart beats high, The swell subsides into a plaintive sigh.

4. Sometimes will you laugh, and sometimes cry, Then sudden you wax wroth, and all you know not why.

5. Thou doest little kindnesses, Which most leave undone or despise; For naught that sets one heart at ease, And giveth happiness or peace, Is low esteemed in thy eyes.

6. Thou art merry and free, Thou carest for naebody, If naebody care for thee.

7. Women love you, that you are a woman More worth than any man; men, that you are The rarest of all women.

8. Not only good and kind, But strong and elevated is thy mind; A spirit that with noble pride Can look superior down On fortune's smile or frown; That can, without regret or pain, To virtue's lowest duty sacrifice.

9. At table you are scrupulous withal; No morsel from your lips do you let fall, Nor in your sauce will dip your fingers deep. Well can you carry a morsel, and well keep, That not a drop e'er falls upon your breast. In courtesy your pleasure much doth rest. Your dainty upper lip you wipe so clean, That in your cup there is no farthing seen Of grease, when you have drunk; and for your meat, Full seemly bend you forward on your seat.

10. You have a natural, wise sincerity, A simple truthfulness; And though yourself not unacquaint with care, Have in your heart wide room.

11. What you do Still betters what is done; when you speak, sweet, We'd have you do it ever.

12. An inward light to guide thee, Unto thy soul is given, Pure and serene as its divine Original in heaven.

13. You have no gift at all in shrewishness, You are a right woman for your cowardice.

14. The world has won thee, lady, and thy joys Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys.

15. Mishap goes o'er thee like a summer cloud; Cares thou hast none, and they who stand to hear thee, Catch the infection and forget their own.

16. Nature for her favorite child, In thee hath temper'd so her clay, That every hour thy heart runs wild, Yet never once doth go astray.

17. Your only labor is to kill the time, And labor dire it is, and weary wo; You sit, you loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme, Then rising, sudden to the glass you go.

18. You will die if —— love you not; and you will die ere you make your love known; and you will die if he woo you, rather than abate one breath of your crossness.

19. It cannot bend thy lofty brow, Though friends and foes depart, The car of fate may o'er thee roll, Nor crush thy Roman heart.

20. You wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all yourself.

21. To tend From good to better—thence to best, Grateful you drink life's cup, then bend Unmurmuring to your bed of rest; You pluck the flowers that around you blow, Scattering their fragrance as you go.

22. Rich in love And sweet humanity, you will be yourself, To the degree that you desire, beloved.

23. You little care what others do, And where they go, and what they say; Your bliss all inward, and your own, Would only tarnish'd be by being shown. The talking, restless world shall see, Spite of the world, you'll happy be; But none shall know, How much you are so, Save only Love.

24. Scared at thy frown, abash'd will fly Self-pleasing folly's idle brood, Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, And leave thee leisure to be good

25. A happy lot be thine, and larger light Await thee there;—for thou hast bow'd thy will In cheerful homage to the rule of right, And lovest all, and doest good for ill.

26. In you are youth, beauty, and humble port, Bounty, richesse, and womanly feature; God better knows than my pen can report, Wisdom, largesse, estate and cunning sure. In every point so guided is your measure, In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance, That nature could no more her child advance.

27. You do incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why.

28. You are a riddle, Which he who solved the sphinx's would die guessing!

29. You have train'd your spirit to forgive, As you hope to be forgiven; And you live on earth as they should live Whose hopes and home are heaven.

30. A reasonable woman; Fair without vanity, rich without pride, Discreet though witty, learned yet very humble.

31. There's little of the melancholy in you; you are never sad but when you sleep, and not even sad then; for I have heard that you often dream of mischief, and wake yourself with laughing.

32. Like a summer storm awhile you're cloudy, Burst out in thunder and impetuous showers, But straight the sun of beauty dawns abroad, And all the fair horizon is serene.

33. Think not the good, The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done Shall die forgotten all; the poor, the prisoner, The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow, Who daily own the bounty of thy hand, Shall cry to heaven and pull a blessing on thee.

34. A friend to the hen-coop you often are found; When the rat or the weasel are prowling around, Or chick become motherless strays from the wing, A mother are you to the motherless thing.

35. A' the day you spier what news kind neibor bodies bring.

36. Innocence and virgin modesty, A virtue and a consciousness of worth That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.

37. It is your pleasure sweetly to complain, And to be taken with a sudden pain; Then up you start, all ecstasy and bliss, And are, sweet soul, just as sincere in this. Oh, how you roll your charming eyes in spite, And look delightfully with all your might.

38. Gracious to all; but where your love is due So fast, so faithful, loyal, just, and true, That a bold hand as soon might hope to force The rolling light of heaven, as stay your course.

39. Thou medley of contraries! We trust thee, yet we doubt thee, Our darkness and our light; Night would be day without thee, And day, without thee, night.

40. You are a soul so white and so chaste, As nothing called foul Dares approach with a blot, Or any least spot; But still you control Or make your own lot, Preserving love pure as it first was begot.

41. The power you wield has its best spells in love, And gentleness, and thought; never in scorn, Or any wayward impulse or caprice.

42. You love to listen better than to talk, And, rather than be gadding, would sit quiet;— Hate cards, and cordials.

43. You do not love As men love, who love often. Yours has been A single sentiment for one alone, An all-engrossing passion, which doth live On hope and faith.

44. Thou talkest well, but talking is thy privilege; 'Tis all the boasted courage of thy sex.

45. Thoughts go sporting through your mind Like children among flowers, And deeds of gentle goodness are The measure of your hours. In soul or face you bear no trace Of one from Eden driven, But, like the rainbow, seem, though born Of earth, a part of heaven!

46. All things thou art by turns, from wrath to love, From the queen eagle, to the vestal dove.

47. You've turn'd up your nose at the short, And cast down your eyes at the tall; But then you just did it in sport, And now you've no lover at all.

48. Alive to feel and curious to explore Each distant object of refined distress.

49. You have a soul Of god-like mould, intrepid and commanding: But you have passions which outstrip the wind, And tear your virtues up.

50. There's not a lovely transient thing But brings thee to our mind! The rainbow, or the fragile flower, Sweet summer's fading joys, The waning moon, the dying day, The passing glories of the clouds, The leaf that brightens as it falls, The wild tones of the Æolian harp, All tell some touching tale of thee; There's not a tender lovely thing But brings thee to our mind.

51. 'Tis not your part, Out of your fond misgivings, to perplex The fortunes of the man to whom you cleave; 'Tis yours to weave all that you have of fair And bright, in the dark meshes of their web.

52. In our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please; When pain and sickness rend the brow, A ministering angel thou.

53. Ever art thou fair, Ev'n in the city's gaudy tumult, fair; Yet he who marks thee only as the charm And worship of gay crowds, in festive halls, Knows but thy living image, not thy soul, Joyless in that cold pomp.

54. Thine is the heart that is gentle and kind, And light as the feather that sports in the wind.

55. Your person is a paradise, and your soul the cherub to guard it.

56. Your two red lips affected zephyrs blow, To cool the Hyson, and inflame the beau; While one white finger and a thumb conspire To lift the cup, and make the world admire.

57. More than a sermon love you the touch'd string, You love to tinkling tunes your feet to fling.

58. Coquet and coy at once your air, Both studied, though both seem neglected; Careless you are with artful care, Affecting to seem unaffected.

59. Your sweet humor Is easy as a calm, and peaceful too. All your affections like the dew on roses,— Fair as the flowers themselves, as sweet and gentle.

60. Grateful we find you, patient of control; A most bewitching gentleness of soul Makes pleasure of what work you have to do.