Honour fet a leg? No.. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in furgery then? No. What is Honour? A word. What is that word Honour? Air: a trim reckoning!-Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it infenfible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not fuffer it:-therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere 'fcutcheon; and fo ends my catechifm. Ibid, A. 5. Sc. 1, His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: And, being angry, doth forget that ever He heard the name of Death. Coriolanus, A. 3. Sc. I. If Jupiter Should from yon cloud fpeak divine things, and fay, Ibid, A. 4. Sc. 5. Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate. Troilus and Creffida, A. 5. Sc. 6. HONOUR AND I've heard you fay, POLICY. Honour and Policy, like unfever'd friends, I' th' war do grow together; grant that, and tell me, That they combine not there? Coriolanus, A. 3. Sc. 5. HOPE. Hope is a lover's ftaff: walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3. Sc. 1. I will defpair; and be at enmity With cozening Hope: he is a flatterer, Who gently would diffolve the bands of life, King Richard II. A. 2. Sc. z. True Hope is fwift, and flies with fwallows wings; King Richard III. A. 5. Sc. 2. HORROR. Some ftrange commotion ; Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts HORRORS OF A PREMEDITATED MURDER. Good friend, thou haft no cause to say so yet ;- I had a thing to fay ;-but, let it go: Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick, Or if that thou could'ft fee me without eyes, King John, A. 3. Sc. z. HOUNDS. HOUNDS. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind; Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, A Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 4. Sc. 1. Thy hounds fhall make the welkin answer them, The Taming of the Shrew, Induction, Sc. z. HUMAN LIFE. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipt them not? and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues. All's Well that Ends Well, A. 4. Sc. 3. HUSBAND. (A deferving one.) O happy Leonatus! I may fay; The credit that thy lady hath of thee, Deferves thy truft; and thy most perfect goodness, A Lady to the worthieft Sir that ever Country called his! and you his mistress, only For the most worthieft fit!-Give me your pardon.— Were deeply rooted; and fhall make your lord That which he is, new o'er: and he is one He fits 'mongt men like a defcended God; Cymbeline, A. 1. Sc. 7. HYPOCRISY. The devil can cite fcripture for his purpose. An evil foul producing holy witnefs, The Merchant of Venice, A. 1. Sc. 3. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, King John, A. 4. Sc. 3. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the ferpent under it. My unfoil'd name, th' auftereness of Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 5. My vouch against you, and my place i' th' ftate, your That you fhall ftifle in your own report, And fmell of calumny. Measure for Measure, A. 2. Sc. 3. Away, my difpofition: and poffefs me, Some harlot's fpirit! My throat of war be turn'd, Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lulls aflcep! The fmiles of knaves Make motion through my lips; and my arm'd knees, That hath receiv'd an alms! Coriolanus, A. 3. Sc. 2. With old odd ends ftol'n forth of holy writ, King Richard III. A. 1. Sc. 4. We're oft to blame in this; 'Tis too much prov'd, that with Devotion's visage, And pious action, we do fugar o'er The devil himself. The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art, IDEAL COVERNMENT. I' th' commonwealth, I would by contraries And women too; but innocent and pure: Ibid. All things in common Nature fhould produce, JEALOUSY. The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'ft vow, That never object pleafing in thine eye, That never touch well welcome to thy hand, Unless I fpake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd. How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it, Am better than my dear felf's better part. As take from me thyfelf, and not me too. |