In various instances, only with greater strength and beauty, Shakespeare gives utterance to the same sequences of thought. When, in Love’s Labour’s Lost (act i. sc. 1, l. 1, vol. ii. p. 97), fashioning his court to be,—
“A little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art,”
Ferdinand, king of Navarre, proclaims,—
“Let Fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register’d upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
The endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe’s keen edge,