And not believes himfelf.
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away
Of him, that his particular to forefee
Smells from the general weal. Make curl'd-pate ruffians bald, And let the unfcarr'd braggarts of the war
Derive fome pain from you.
Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft
In the Rialto you have rated me
About my monies and my ufances.
Still have I borne it with a patient fhrug;
(For fufferance is the badge of all our tribe.)
You call me mifbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And fpit upon my Jewish gaberdine;
And all for use of that which is my own.
Well then, it now appears, you need my help;
Go to then; you come to me, and you say,
Shylock, we would have monies; you fay fo;
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur,
Over threshold: money is
your
your fuit.
What should I fay to you? fhould I not fay,
Hath a dog money? is it poffible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
With bated breath, and whifp'ring humbleness,
Say this-Fair Sir, you spit on me last Wednesday;
You fpurn'd me fuch a day; another time
You call'd me dog; and for these curtefies
I'll lend you thus much monies ?
The Merchant of Venice, A. 1. Sc. 3.
EXULTATION.
"Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait : He rifes on his toe: that spirit of his In afpiration lifts him from the earth.
Troilus and Creffida, A. 4. Sc. 8.
Ye elves of hills, brooks, ftanding lakes, and groves,
And ye that on the fands with printless foot"
Do chace the ebbing Neptune; and do fly him,
When he comes back; ye demi-puppets, that
By moonshine do the green-fward ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose paftime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the folemn curfew; by whofe aid
(Weak mafters though you be) I have bedimm'd
The noon-tide fun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green fea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire; and rifted Jove's tout oak
With his own bolt; the ftrong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake, and by the fpurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar : graves at my
command
Have wak'd their fleepers; op'd and let them forth
fo potent art.
The Tempest, A. 5. Sc. 1.
EMPLOYMENT.
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman;
Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricots and dew-berries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries :
The honey-bags fteal from the humble bees,
And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes,
To have my love to bed and to arise:
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moon-beams from his fleeping eyes.
A Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 3. Sc. 1.
FAIRIES JEALOUSY.
These are the forgeries of jealoufy;
And never fince the middle fummer's fpring
Met we on hill, in dale, foreft, or mead,
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook,
Or on the beached margent of the fea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou haft disturb'd our sport,
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have fuck'd
up from the fea
Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land,
Have every pelting river made fo proud,
That they have overborne their continents.
The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain,
The ploughman loft his fweat; and the green corn
Hath rotted ere its youth attain'd a beard :
The fold flands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock :
The nine-men's-morris is fill'd with mud;
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
For lack of tread, are undiftinguishable.
The human mortals want their winter here;
No night is now with hymn or carol bleft;
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods,
Pale in her anger, washes all the air;
That rheumatic diseases do abound.
And thorough this diftemperature we fee
The seasons alter; hoary-headed frofts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose;
And on old Hyems' chin and icy crown
An od❜rous chaplet of fweet fummer buds
Is, as in mockery, fet. The fpring, the fummer,
The chiding autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and th' amazed world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which:
And this fame progeny of evil comes
From our debate, from our diffenfion;
We are their parents and original.
A Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 2. Sc. 1.
FALSE HOOD.
Two beggars told me
I could not mifs my way. Will poor folk lye,
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis
A punishment, or trial? Yes: no wonder,
When rich ones fcarce tell true. To lapfe in fulness
Is forer than to lye for need; and falfehood
Is worfe in kings than beggars. Cymbeline, A. 3. Sc. 5.
LAMENTATION.
Doth not every earthly thing
Cry fhame upon her? could fhe fere deny
The ftory that is printed in her blood?
Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes:
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy fpirits were ftronger than thy fhame,
Myfelf would, on the rereward of reproaches,
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, I had but one?
Chid I for that at frugal Nature's frame?
I've one too much by thee. Why had I one?
Why ever waft thou lovely in my eyes?
Why had I not, with charitable hand,
Took up a beggar's iffue at my gates?
Who fmear'd thus, and mir'd with infamy,
I might have said, No part of it is mine;
This fhame derives itself from unknown loins.
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd,
And mine that I was proud on, mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her; why fhe-oh, fhe is fallen
Into a pit of ink, that the wide fea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And falt too little, which may feafon give
To her foul tainted flesh!
Much Ado about Nothing, A. 4. Sc. 1.
FAULTS.、
I must not think these are
Evils enough to darken all his goodness:
His faults in him feem, as the fpots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary
Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,
Than what he choofes. Antony and Cleopatra, A. 1. Sc. 2.
Bid her fteal into the pleached bower, Where honeyfuckles, ripen'd by the fun, Forbid the fun to enter; like to favourites
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it.
Much Ado about Nothing, A. 3. Sc. 1.
Would he were fatter: but I fear him not;
Yet, if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I fhould avoid
So foon as that fpare Cafius. He reads much;
He is a great obferver; and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays,
As thou doft, Antony; he hears no mufic:
Seldom he fmiles; and fmiles in fuch a fort
As if he mock'd himself, and fcorn'd his fpirit
That could be mov'd to fmile at any thing.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease
While they behold a greater than themselves;
And therefore are they very dangerous.
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd,
Than what I fear; for always I am Cafar.
Julius Cæfar, A. 1. Sc. 2.
The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold; and then
We pout upon the morning, are unapt
To give, or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd
Thefe pipes, and thefe conveyances of our blood,
With wine and feeding, we have fuppler fouls
Than in our priest-like fafts;-therefore I'll watch him
Till he be dieted to my request. -Coriolanus A. 5. Sc. 1.
Is all the counfel that we two have fhar'd,
The fifter vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hafty-footed time.
For parting us-oh! and is all forgot?
All fchool-days friendship, childhood innocence ?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
Created with our needles both one flower,
Both on one fampler, fitting on one cushion;
Both warbling of one fong, both in one key;
As if our hands, our fides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, feeming parted,
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries, moulded on one stem;
So with two feening bodies, but one heart :
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