The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war
A pain that only feems to feek out danger
I'the name of fame and honour, which dies i'the search,
And halt as oft a flanderous epitaph
As record of fair act; nay, many times
Doth ill defence by doing well; what's worfe,
Muft curt'fy at the cenfure. O boys, this story
The world may read in me my body's mark'd
With Roman fwords; and my report was once
Firft with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd me;
And when a foldier was the theme, my name
Was not far off: then was I as a tree,
Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night,
A ftorm, or robbery, call it what you will,
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves,
And left me bare to weather.
My fault being nothing (as I told you oft)
But that two villains, whofe falfe oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, fwore to Cymbeline
I was confederate with the Romans, fo
Followed my banishment; and these twenty years,
This rock, as thefe demefnes, have been my world;
Where I have lived at honeft freedom; pay'd
More pious debts to heaven, than in all
The fore end of my time.-But up to the mountains;
This is no hunter's language: he that ftrikes
The venifon firft, fhall be lord of the feaft;
To him the other two fhall minister;
And we will eat no poison; which attend
In place of greater state.
Contention, like a horfe
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.
If thou doft break her virgin knot, before
All fanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy right be ministred,
No fweet afperfions fhall the heav'ns let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-ey'd difdain', and difcord shall beftrew
The union of your bed with weeds fo loathly
That you fhall hate it both: therefore take heed,
As Hymen's lamps fhall light you.
The Tempest, A. 4. Sc. 1.
-Do not give dalliance
Too much the rein: the ftrongeft oaths are ftraw
To th'fire i'th'blood: be more abftemious,
Or elfe, good-night your vow.
For quiet days, fair iffue, and long life,
With fuch love as 'tis now; the murkieft den,
The most opportune place, the ftrong'ft fuggeftion
Our worfer genius can, fhall never melt
Mine honour into luft; to take away
The edge of that day's celebration,
When I fhall think, or Phœbus' feeds are founder'd, Or night kept chain'd below.
Can counfel, and give comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tafting it,
Their counsel turns to paffion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter ftrong madnefs with a filken thread,
Charm ach, with air, and agony with words.
No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience
To thofe that wring under the load of forrow ;
But no man's virtue, nor fufficiency,
To be fo moral, when he fhall endure
The like himself: therefore give me no counsel;
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Much ado about Nothing, A. 5. Sc. I.
COUNTRY LASS.
This is the prettieft low-born lafs, that ever
Ran on the green ford; nothing the does or feems
But fmacks of fomething greater than herself,
Too noble for this place.
The Winter's Tale, A.4. Sc. 3.
By how much unexpected, by fo much
We must awake endeavour for defence;
For courage mounteth with occafion.
King John, A. 2. Sc. z.
-What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tyger,
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble: or, be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword;
If trembling I inhabit, then protest me
The baby of a girl.
He had the wit which I can well obferve
To-day in our young lords; but they may jeft,
Till their own fcorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour:
So like a courtier, nor contempt or bitterness
Were in him; pride or fharpnefs, if there were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exceptions bid him fpeak; and, at that time,
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him
He us'd as creatures of another place,
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,
In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times.
All's Well that Ends Well, A. 1. Se. 1.
-Say, that upon the altar of her beauty
You facrifice your tears, your fighs, your heart:
Write 'till
your ink be dry; and with your tears
D
Moift it again; and frame fome feeling line
That may difcover fuch integrity:
For Orpheus' lyre was ftrung with poets' finews,
Whofe golden touch could foften feel and ftones,
Make tygers tame, and huge leviathans
Forfake unfounded deeps to dance on fands.
After your dire lamenting elegies,
Vifit by night your lady's chamber-window
With fome fweet concert; to their inftruments
Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead filence
Will well become fuch fweet complaining grievance.
This, or elfe nothing, will inherit her.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3. Sc. 2.
COWARD.
-I know him a notorious liar
Think him a great way fool, folely a coward:
Yet thefe fixt evils fit fo fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's fteely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind.
Cold wifdom waiting on fuperfluous folly.
All's Well that Ends Well, A. 1. Sc. T.
That which in mean men we entitle patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breaffs.
King Richard II. A. 1. Sc. z.
COX COM B.
He did compliment with his dug before he fuck'd it. Thus he (and many more of the fame breed that I know the droffy age doats on) only get the tune of the time, and outward habit of encounter; a kind of yefty collection, which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.
CROSSES ΙΝ LOVE.
The course of true love never did run smooth;
Or, if there were a fympathy in choice,
War, death, or fick nefs, did lay fiege to it,
Making it momentary as a found,
Swift as a fhadow, fhort as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That (in a fpleen) unfolds both heav'n and earth;
And ere a man hath pow'r to fay, Behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confufion.
A Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1. Sc. 1.
Send danger from the Eaft unto the Weft,
So honour cross it from the North to South;
And let them grapple.-O! the blood more ftirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare.
Henry IV. Part I. A. 1. Sc. 3!
A fceptre, fnatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boiftrously maintain'd as gain'd.
And he, that stands upon a flippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to itay him up.
King John, A. 3. SC. 4
The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phœbus, round about Dapples the drowfy Eaft with fpots of grey.
Much Ado about Nothing, A. 5. Sc. 3.
Oh, now doth Death line his dead chaps with fteel;
The fwords of foldiers are his teeth, his fangs:
And now he feafts, mouthing the flesh of men,
In undetermin'd diff'rences of kings.
Death! death! oh amiable, lovely death!
Thou odoriferous ftench, found rottennefs;
Arife forth from thy couch of lafting night,.
Thou hate and terror to profperity,
And I will kifs thy deteftable bones,
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows,
And ring thefe fingers with thy household worms,
And ftop this gap of breath with fulfome duft,
And be a carrion monfter like thyself;
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