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In silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade : We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wand'ring moon. Come now a roundel, and a fairy song; Then for the third part of a minute, hence: Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; Some, war with rear-mice for their leathern wings, To make
small elves coats; and some, keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our quaint spirits : Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks, and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes : Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathoms deep; and then anon Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes, And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice.
FALSEHOOD. Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand Is perjur'd to the hosom? Protheus, I am sorry, I must never trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sakc. The private wound is deepest.
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell !
My love to Hermia, Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gawd, Which in childhood I did dote upon.
So the whole ear of Denmark
death Rankly abus'd.
You told a lie; an odious, damned lie ; Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lié.
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
The evil, that men do, lives after them;
Men's evil manners live in brass : their virtues
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heav'n!
Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, "Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.
FAME.-FANCY.-FATE. — FAVOUR.
Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
death I wish no other herald,
Tell me, where is fancy bred ;
All impediments in fancy's course
What fates impose, that men must needs abide ;
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
'Tis the curse of service;
Whence is that knocking !
You make me strange
Why, what should be the fear ?
0, these flaws, and starts,
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day.
But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon ! Where got’st thou that goose
Accursed be the tongue that tells me so,
I have almost forgot the taste of fears :
He that can endure
him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i’ the story.