Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had ftill kept loyal to poffeffion,

And left me in reputelefs banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood;
But, being feldom feen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at!

That men would tell their children, "This is he;"
Others would fay, "Where? which is Bolingbroke?"
And then I ftole all courtefy from heav'n,
And dreft myself in much humility,

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,"
Loud fhouts and falutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my perfon fresh and new;
My prefence, like a robe pontifical,

Ne'er feen but wonder'd at: and fo my ftate,
Seldom, but fumptuous fhowed like a feast,
And won by rarenefs fuch folemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With fhallow jefters, and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and foon burnt: 'fcarded his ftate:
Mingled his royalty with carping fools:

Had his great name profaned with their fcorns,
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh with gybing boys, and ftand the pufk
Of every beardlefs vain comparative:

Grew a companion to the common ftreets;
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity;

That, being daily fwallow'd by men's eyes,

They furfeited with honey, and began

To loath the taste of fweetnefs: whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occafion to be seen,
He was but, as the cuckow is in June,

Heard, not regarded; feen, but with fuch eyes
As, fick and blunted with community,

Afford no extraordinary gaze;

Such as is bent on fun-like majesty,

When it fhines feldom in admiring eyes :

But rather drows'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and rendred fuch afpect

As

As cloudy men ufe to their adverfaries,

Being with his prefence glutted, gorg'd, and full. Henry IV. Part I. A. 3. Sc. 4..

DISCONTENT..

I know a difcontented gentleman,

Whose humble means match not his haughty mind; Gold were as good as twenty orators,

And will no doubt tempt him to any thing.

Richard II. A. 4. Sc. 20.

Canft thou not minifter to a mind difeas'd';
Pluck from the memory a rooted forrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with fome fweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanfe the foul bofom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart

Macbeth, A. 5. Sc. 3

DISGUISE.

Difguife, I fee thou art a wickedness
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.

Twelfth Night, A. 2. Sc. 1..

DISLIKE.

-At first

I ftuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durft make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impreffion of mine eye enfixing,
Contempt his fcornful perfpective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or exprefs'd it ftol'n,
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a moft hideous object: thence it came
That the whom all men prais'd, and whom myfelf,
Since I have loft, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The duft that did offend it.

All's Well that Ends Well, A. 5.

DISSIMULATIO N.

She's but the fign and femblance of her honour:

Behold, how like a maid she blushes here!

Sc. 2

O, what authority and fhew of truth
Can cunning fin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood as modeft evidence
To witnefs fimple virtue? Would you not swear,
All you that fee her, that she were a maid,
By thefe exterior fhews? But fhe is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltinefs, not modefty.

Much ado about Nothing, A. 4. Sc. 1.

DISTRACTION.

As the wretch, whofe fever-weaken'd joints
Like ftrengthlefs hinges buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire

Out of his keeper's arms; c'en fo my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief,
Are thrice themfelves. Hence, therefore, thou nice
crutch;

A fcaly gauntlet now with joints of steel

Muft glove this hand: and hence, thou fickly quoif,
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head

Which princes, flefh'd with conqueft, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The rugged' hour that time and fpite dare bring
To frown upon th'enrag'd Northumberland!

Let heaven kifs earth! Now let not Nature's hand
Keep the wild flood confin'd! Let order die :
And let this world no longer be a ftage
To feed contention in a ling'ring act;
But let one fpirit of the firft-born Cain
Reign in all bofoms, that each heart being fet
On bloody courfes, the rude fcene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead.

Henry IV. Part II. A. 1. Sc. 3.

Our revels now are ended: thefe our actors,
As I foretold you, were all fpirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air ;
And, like the bafelefs fabrick of this vifion,
The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The folemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit shall diffolve ;

And,

And, like this infubftantial pageant faded,
Leave not a wreck behind! we are fuch stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a fleep.

The Tempest, A. 4. Sc. r.

DOUBT.

Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause and universal fhout,
Giddy in fpirit, gazing ftill in doubt,
Whether those peals of praise be his or no:
So (thrice-fair Lady !) ftand I, even fo,
As doubtful whether what I fee be true,
Until confirm'd, fign'd, ratify'd by you.

The Merchant of Venice, A. 3. Sc. 2.

(A Defcription of it.) Come on, Sir; here's the place:-stand still. How fearful,

And dizzy 'tis to caft one's eyes fo low!

The crows and choughs that wing the mid-way air,
Shew scarce fo grofs as beetles: half-way down
Hangs one that gathers famphire; dreadful trade!
Methinks he feems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen that walk upon the beach
Appear like mice: and yon tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almoft too fmall for fight: the murmuring furge,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard fo high: I'll look no more,
Left my brain turn, and the deficient fight
Topple down headlong!

King Lear, A. 4. Sc. 6.

DREAM S.

O then I fee Queen Mab has been with you.
She is the fairies midwife; and fhe comes,
In fhape no bigger than an agate ftone
On the fore-finger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's nofes as they lie asleep:

Hes

Her waggon-fpokes made of long fpinners legs;
The cover, of the wings of grafshoppers;
The traces, of the fmalleft fpider's web;

The collars, of the moonfhine's wat❜ry beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film ;
Her waggoner, a fmall grey-coated gnat,
Not half fo big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid:
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut,
Made by the joiner fquirrel, or old grub,
Time out of mind the fairies coach-makers.
And in this ftate the gallops night by night
Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love:
On courtiers knees, that dream on curtefies ftraight;
O'er lawyers fingers, who ftraight dream on fees:
O'er ladies lips, who ftraight on kiffes dream;
Which oft the angry Mab with blifters plagues,
Because their breaths with ifweetmeats tainted are.
Sometimes the gallops o'er a courtier's nofe,
And then dreams he of fmelling out a fuit:
And fometimes comes fhe with a tythe-pig's tail-
Tickling a parfon's nofe as a'lies asleep;
Then dreams he of another benefice:
Sometimes the driveth o'er a foldier's neck;
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambufcadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts and wakes;
And being thus frighted, fwears a prayer or two,
And fleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plats the manes of horfes in the night,
And cakes the elf-lock in foul fluttish hairs,
Which once untangled much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That preffes them, and learns them firft to bear,
Making them women of good carriage;
This is the.

Thus I talk of dreams

Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain phantafy;
Which is as thin of fubftance as the air;

And more inconftant than the wind, who wODES