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Thanks, to men
Of noble minds, is honourable meed.
Timon of Athens, A. 1. Sc. 3.
I'll example you with thievery.
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea. The moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into falt tears. The earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a compofture stolen
From general excrements. Each thing's a thief.
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power
Háve uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves : away!
Rob one another.
Ibid. A. 4. Sc. 7.
Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feaft;
Or wallow naked in December snow,
]}y thinking on fantastic fummer's heat ?
Oh no! the apprehension of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse ;
Fell Sorrow's tooth doth never rancle more
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the fore.
King Richard II. A. 2. Sc. 3.
Τ Ι Μ Ε.
Oh, gentlemen, the time of life is short :
To spend that shortness basely, were too long,
Tho' life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at th' arrival of an hour.
Henry IV. Part 1, A. 5. Sc. S
What! keep a week away? seven days and nights ?
Eight score eight hours ? and love's absent hours,
More tedious than the dial eight score times ?
Oh weary reckoning !
Othello, A. 3. Sc. 13. TOOLS IN OFFICE. Ostavius, I have seen more days than you :
And though we lay those honours on this man,
To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads,
He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold,
To groan and sweat under the business,
Either led, or driven, as he points the way ;
And having brought our treasure where we will,
we down his load, and turn him off, Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears, And graze in commons. Julius Cæfar, A. 4. Sc. 1.
TO R M E N T.
Thou best know'ft
What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
ever-angry, bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax Could not undo again.
The Tempeft, A. 1. Sc. 2.
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
Were 't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would intreat thy company,
To see the wonders of the world abroad,
Than (living dully fluggardiz’d at home)
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 1. Se. i.
The youngest son of Priam, a true knight;
Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word;
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue ;
Nor foon provok’d, nor, being provok’d, foon calm’d:
His heart and hand both open, and both free ;
For what he has, he gives ; what thinks, he shews;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty ;
Nor dignifies an impair thought with breath:
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous;
For Hector in his blaze of wrath subfcribes
To tender objects; but he in heat of action
Is more vindicative than jealous love.
They call him Iroilus, and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says Æneas, one that knows the youth
Even to his inches ; and, with private foul,
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.
Troilus and Creffida, A. 4. Sc. 9
-If thou shalt ever love,
In the fweet pangs of it, remember me :
For such as I am, all true lovers are ;
Unstaid and kittish in all motions else,
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is belov'd.
Twelfib Night, A. 3. Sc. 4
--He says he loves my daughter:
I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon
Upon the water, as he'll stand and read
As 'twere my daughter's eyes : and, to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to chuse
Who loves another belt. The Winter's Tale, A. 4. Sc. 3.
Alas, poor country! Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once feen to smile; Where sighs and groans, and shrieks, that rend the air, Are made, not mark'd; where violent forrow seems A modern ecstafy: the dead man's knell Is there scarce ak'd, for whom ? and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they ficken.
Macbeth, A. 4. Sc. 3.
A barren and detested vale, you see, it is.
The trees, though summer, vet forlorn and lean,
O'ercome with moss, and baleful misseltoe.
Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raren.
And when they sew'd me this ahhorred pit,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
A thousand fiends, 2 thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,
Would make such fearful and confused cries,
As any mortal body, hearing it,
Should Araight fall mad, or else die suddenly.
Titus Andronicus, A. 2. Sc. 4.
VALO U R.
Methought he bore him in the thickest troop,
As doth a lion in a herd of neat ;
Or as a bear encompass'd round with dogs,
Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof and bark at him.
King Henry VI. Part III. A. 2. Sc. 1.
But Value dwells not in particular will;
It holds his estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself
As in the prizer. 'Tis mad idolatry
To make the service greater than the god;
And the will doats, that is inclinable
To what infectiously itself affects,
Without some image of the affected merit.
Troilus and Cressida, A. 2. Sc. 2.
VALUE I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, A stage where every man muft play his part, And mine a sad one. Merchant of Venice, A. 1. Sc. 1.
PLEASURES. Why, all delights are vain ; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas’d, doth inherit pain.
Love's Labour Loft, A. J. Sc. l.
No matter where : of comfort no man speak :
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ;
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write forrow on the bosom of the earth!
Let's chuse executors, and talk of wills;
And yet not so--for what can we bequeath,
Save our deposed bodies to the ground ?
Our lands, our lives, and all, are Boling broke's ;
And nothing can we call our own but death,
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's fake, let us fit upon the ground,
And tell fad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been depos'd, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they difpoffefs’d,
Some poison’d by their wives, fome sleeping killd,
Richard II. A. 3. Sec. 2.
But virtue, as it never will be mov'd,
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven ;
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will fate itself in a celestial bed,
And prey on garbage.
Hamlet, A. 1. Sc. 5.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
Troilus and Cressida, A. 5. Sc. 3.
Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.
Why thould you want : Behold, the earth hath roots ;
Within this mile break forth an hundred springs :
The oak bears mast, the briars scarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, Nature, on each bush
Lays her full mess before you.- Want! Why want?
Timon of Athens, A. 4. Sc. 3.
There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip;
Nay her foot speaks, her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.
O these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a coafting welcome ere it comes,
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every ticklih reader! set them down
For lattich spoils of opportunity.
Troilus and Crefida, A. 4. Sc. 5.