Spirits when they please,
Can either sex assume, or both.
1650
MILTON:  Par.  Lost, Bk. i., Line 423.

=Sexton.=

See yonder maker of the dead man’s bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle! 
Of hard, unmeaning face, down which ne’er stole
A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand,
Digs thro’ whole rows of kindred and acquaintance
By far his juniors!  Scarce a skull’s cast up
But well he knew its owner, and can tell
Some passage of his life.
1651
BLAIR:  The Grave, Line 452.

His death, which happened in his berth,
  At forty-odd befell: 
They went and told the sexton, and
  The sexton tolled the bell.
1652
HOOD:  Faithless Sally Brown.

=Shadow.=

Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass. 1653 SHAKS.:  Richard III., Act i., Sc. 2.

Syene, and where the shadow both way falls,
Meroe, Nilotic isle.
1654
MILTON:  Par.  Regained, Bk. iv., Line 70.

Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
1655
JOHN FLETCHER:  Upon an “Honest Man’s Fortune."

=Shaft.=

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight
The selfsame way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; and by adventuring both
I oft found both.
1656
SHAKS.:  M. of Venice, Act i., Sc. 1.

That eagle’s fate and mine are one,
  Which on the shaft that made him die
Espied a feather of his own,
  Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
1657
WALLER:  To a Lady Singing a Song of his Composing.

=Shakespeare.=

Soul of the age! 
Th’ applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! 
My Shakespeare, rise!  I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee room;
Thou art a monument, without a tomb,
And art alive still, while thy book doth live,
And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
1658
BEN JONSON:  Underwoods, To the Mem. of Shakespeare.

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o’ the world.  Oh, eyes sublime,
With tears and laughters for all time!
1659
MRS. BROWNING:  Vision of Poets, St. 101.

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy’s child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
1660
MILTON:  L’Allegro, Line 129.

What needs my Shakespeare for his honor’d bones,—­
The labor of an age in piled stones? 
Or that his hallow’d relics should be hid
Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? 
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,
What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name?
1661
MILTON:  On Shakespeare.

=Shame.=

O, shame! where is thy blush?
1662
SHAKS.:  Hamlet, Act iii., Sc. 4.