Be but to fleep and feed? A beaft; no man. Ibid. A. 4. Sc. 4. MAN'S PRE-EMINENCE. There's nothing fituate under heaven's eye, The Comedy of Errors, A. 2. Sc. 1. MARKS OF A LOVER. A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye and funken, which you have not; an unquestionable fpirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which you have not ;-but I pardon you for that, for fimply your having no beard is a younger brother's revenue-Then your hofe fhould be ungarter'd, your bonnet unbanded, your fleeve unbuttoned, your fhoes untyed, and every thing about you demonftrating a careless defolation: but you are no fuch man; you are rather point device in your accoutrements, as loving yourself than feeming the lover of any other. As You Like It, A. 3. Sc. 2. First, you have learn'd, like Sir Protheus, to wreath your arms, like a male-content; to relifh a lovefong, like a Robin Redbreaft; to walk alone, like one that had the peftilence; to figh like a school-boy, that had loft his ABC; to weep like a young wench, that had buried her grandam; to faft like one that takes diet; to watch like one that fears robbing; to speak puling like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when you laugh'd, to crow like a cock; when you walk'd, to walk like one of the lions; when you fafted, it it was presently after dinner; when you look'd fadly, it was for want of money: and now you are metamorphos'd with a mistress, that when I look on you, I can hardly think you my mafter. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 2. Sc. 1. MARRI A G. E. The worthless peafants bargain for their wives,. Henry VI. Part I. A. 5. Sc. 6. But our new heraldry is-hands not hearts. Othello, A. 3. Sc. 4. The inftances that fecond marriage move, Hamlet, A. 2. Sc. 2. (Hamlet's Remonftrance to his Mother on her Second Marriage.) Look here upon this picture, and on this ; To give the world affurance of a man. This was your husband -Look you now what follows. Here is your husband, like a mildew'd ear, Blafting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes! Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And And batter on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? The hedey in the blood is tame, it's humble, To ferve in fuch a difference. What devil was't O fhame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell! And melt in her own fire: proclaim no fhame, And reafon panders will. Hamlet, A. 3. Sc. 4. His Soliloquy on it. O that this too, too folid flesh would melt, Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His cannon 'gainst felf-flaughter! O God! O God! How weary, ftale, flat and unprofitable? Fie on't! O fie! 'Tis an unweeded garden, By what it fed on: And yet within a month Let Let me not think on't-Frailty, thy name is Woman! O Heaven!-a beaft, that wants discourse of reason, But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue. Hamlet, A. 1. Sc. 2. M ARTLE T. This gueft of fummer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 6. M EDIOCRIT Y. -For aught I fee, they are as fick, that furfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing; therefore it is no mean happiness to be feated in the mean. -Superfluity comes fooner by white hairs; but competency lives longer. The Merchant of Venice, A. 1. Sc. 2. MEETING OF LOVERS. Othello. It gives me wonder, great as my content, As Hell's from Heaven! If I were now to die, 'Twere "Twere now to be moft happy; for I fear, Def. -The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts fhould increase Oth. Amen to that, fweet powers! I cannot fpeak enough of this content, And this, and this, the greatest difcords be [kiffing her. Othello, A. 2. Sc. 1. MELANCHOLY. I have neither the fcholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the foldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many fimples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a moft humorous sadness. As You Like It, A. 4. MELANCHOLY STORIES. In Winter's tedious nights, fit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their grief, And fend the hearers weeping to their beds. Sc. I. King Richard II. A. 5. Sc. 1. MENA CE. Thou injurious Tribune! Within thine eyes fet twenty thousand deaths, In thy lying tongue both numbers; I would fay F MERCY. |