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A thousand times more fair; ten thousand times
More rich; that, to stand high in your account,
I might in virtues, beauties, livingo, friends,
Exceed account: but the full sum of me
Is fum of something, which, to term in gross,
Is an unleffon'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd:
Happy in this, ņe is not yet so old
But she may learn; more happy then in this,
She is not bred so dull but he can learn;
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle ípirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord," her governor, her king :
Myself, and what is mine, to you and yours
Is now converted. The Merchant of Venice, A. 3. Sc. 2.

- Rounded in the ear,
With that same purpose-changer, that Ily devil,
That broker, that ftill breaks the pate of Faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young meri, maids,
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word Maid, cheats the poor maid of that;
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity,
Commodity, the bias of the world,
The world, which of itself is poised well,
Made to run even, upon even ground:
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent.

King John, A. 2. Sc. 6.,


SE L F Self-love is not so vile à fin As felf-neglecting

Henry V. A. 2. Sc. 4.

SEPARATION. To die is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is felf from felf; a deadly banishment!

What light is light, if Silvia be not feen?
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by,
Unless it be to think that she is by,
And feed upon the shadow of perfection ?
Except I be by Silvia in the night,
There is no mufic in the nightingale ;
Unless I look on Silvia in the day,
There is no day for me to look upon :
She is my essence; and I leave to be,
If I be not by her fair influence
Foster'd, illumin’d, cherish'd, kept alive.

Tbe Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3. Sc.

So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ;
Come all to help him, and fo stop the air
By which he should revive : 'and even fo
The general subjects to a well-wish'd king
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs
appear offence.

Measure for Measure, A. 2. Sc. I.
It is the curse of kings, to be attended
By Naves that take their humours for a warrant,
To break into the bloody house of life;
And on the winking of authority,
To understand a law, to know the meaning
Of dang’rous Majefty; when, perchance, it frowns
More upon humour than advis'd respect.

King John A. 4. Sc. 2,

3 H E P H ER D.

and my

I am a true labourer. I earn that I eat; get that I wear; owe no man hate ; envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good; content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is, to see my ewes graze,

lambs suck.

As You Like It, A: 3. Sc. 3. SHEPHERD'S LIFE O God! methinks it were a happy life To be no better than a homely Twain ; To fir upon a hill, as I do now;

To So So

my reft ;

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
How many make the hour full complete,
How many hours bring about the days
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the time;

many hours must I tend my flock;

hours must I take
So many hours must I contemplate ;
So many hours must I fport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with

So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean;
So many months ere I shall Theer the fleece:
So minútes, hours, days, weeks, months, and yearsg
Past over, to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah! what a life were this! how sweet, how lovely!
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To fhepherds looking on their filly sheep,
Than doth a rich-embroider'd canopy
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?
O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely cards,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which fecure and fweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched on a curious bed,
When care, mifruft, and treasons wait on him.

Henry VI, Part III. A. 2. Sc. 6. SHEPHERD'S PHILOSOPHY, I know, the more one fickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends: that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn: that good pasture makes fat fheep; and that a great cause of the night, is lack of the fun: that he that hath learn'd no wit by nature, nor art, may complain of good-breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.

As You Like It, A. 3. Sc. 3.

Infirmity doth still neglect all office,
Whereto our health is bound : we are not ourselves
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body.

King Lear, A, 2. Sc. 4.

I was not much afraid; for once or twice
I was about to speak, and tell him plainly,
The self-fame sun, that shines upon his court,
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
Looks on alike.

The Winter's Tale, A. 4. Sc. 3

9 L AN DER. For slander lives upon

fuccefsion ; For ever hous’d, where it once gets poffeffion.

The Comedy of Errors, A. 3. Sc. I.

'Tis slander,
Whose edge is fharper than the sword; whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belye
All corners of the world; kings, queens, and ftates,
Maids, matrons-nay, the secrets of the grave,
This viperous flander enters. Cymbeline, A. 3. Sc. 4.

For haply slander,
Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter
As level as the cannon to his blank
Transports his poison’d shot, may miss our name,
And hit the woundless air.

Hamlet, A. 4. Sc. i.

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits forrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

The Tempef, A. 2. Solo
Boy! Lucius! fast asleep? It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey heavy dew of slumber :
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore, thou sleep'it so sound.

Julius Cæjar, A. 2. Sc.




-Think with thyself, How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither'; since thy fight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow ; Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The son, the husband, and the father tearing His country's bowels out. And to poor we Thine enmity's most capital; and thou barr'st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a cornfort That all but we enjoy: for how can we, Alas! how can we for our country pray, Whereto we're bound, together with thy victory, Whereto we're bound ? Alack! or we must lose The country, our dear nurse; or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An eminent calamity, though we had

Our wish, which side should win : for either thou - Mult,

as a foreign recreant, be led
With manacles thorough our street; or else
Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin,
And bear the palm for having bravely shed
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, fon,
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till
These wars determine. If I can't persuade thee
Rather to shew a noble grace to both parts
Than seek the end of one; thou shalt no sooner
March to assault thy country, than to tread
(Trust to't, thou shalt not) on thy mother's womb,
That brought thee to this world. Coriolanus, A. 5. Sc. 3.

O, my good Lord, why are you thus alone ?
For what offence have I this fortnight been
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden fleep?
Why dost thou bend thy eyes upon the earth,
And start so often, when thou fitt'ft alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood of thy cheeks,

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