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My fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up:
My father's lofs, the weakness that I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats,
To whom I am fubdued, are but light to me;
Might I but through my prifon once a day
Behold this maid: all corners elfe o' th' earth
Let liberty make ufe of; fpace enough
Have I in fuch a prifon.

The Tempeft, A. i. S. 2. There's nothing in this world can make me joy; Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowfy man. A bitter fhame hath spoilt the sweet world's tafte, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.

King John, A. 3. Sc. 3.

I have liv'd long enough; my May of life
Is fallen into the fere, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old-age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curfes not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Macbeth, A. 5. Sc. 3.


Oh, Sun, thy uprife fhall I fee no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here

Do we shake hands all come to this!-The hearts
That fpaniel'd me at heels, to whom I
Their wishes, do difcandy, melt their fweets
On bloffoming Cafar: and this pine is bark'd,
That over-topt them all.

Antony and Cleopatra, A. 4. Sc. 10.


You common.cry of curs, whose breath I hate,
A's reek o' th' rotten fens; whofe loves I prize.
As the dead carcafes of unburied men,
That do corrupt my air; I banish you,
And here remain with your uncertainty;
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts;
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,

C 6


Fan you into defpair. Have the pow'r still
To banish your defenders, till at length
Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,
Making but refervation of yourselves,
Still your own enemies, deliver you,
As moft abated captives, to fome nation
That won you without blows!

Coriolanus, A. 3. Sc. 6.



Had I fo lavish of my prefence been,
So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So ftale and cheap to vulgar company,
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 heaven,
And drefs'd myself in much humility,

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud fhouts and falutations from their mouths,
Even in the prefence 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 jesters, and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and foon burnt; 'fcarded his state ;=
Mingled his royalty with carping fools;
Had his great name profaned with their scorns;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh with gybing boys, and ftand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative;
Grew a companion to the common ftreets;
Enfeoff'd himfelf to popularity;.
That, being daily fwallow'd by men's eyes,.

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They furfeited with honey, and began
To loathe the tafte of sweetness; whereof a little.
More than a little is by much too much..
So, when he had occasion 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 majefty,
When it shines feldom in admiring eyes;
But rather drows'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd fuch afpect,
As cloudy men ufe to their adverfaries,

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


I know a discontented gentleman,

Whofe humble means match not his haughty mind :-
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will no doubt tempt him to any thing.
Richard III. A. 4. Sc. 2..



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

Macbeth, A. 5. Sc. 3;


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

Twelfth Night, A.2. Sc. 1,


At first

Iftuck 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 perspective 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 she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
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. Sc. 2.


She's but the fign and femblance of her honour :
Behold how like a maid fhe blushes here:
O, what authority and fhew of truth
Can cunning fin cover itself withal!
Comes not that blood as modest evidence
To witness fimple virtue? Would you not fwear,,
All you that fee her, that fhe were a maid,
By these exterior fhews? But fhe is none:
She knows the heat of a luxurious bed;
Her blush is guiltinefs, not modesty.

Much Ado about Nothing, A. 4. Sc. I..
Why, I can fmile, and murder while I fmile;
And cry content to that which grieves my heart;
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears;
And frame my face to all occafions:

I'll drown more failors than the mermaid fhall;
I'll flay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Neftor;
Deceive more flily than Ulyffes could,.
And like a Sinon take another Troy;
I can add colours, even to the camelion;
Change fhapes with Proteus, for advantages;
And fet th' afpiring Catiline to fchool.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?

King Henry VI Part III. A. 3. Sc. 2..


As the wretch, whofe fever-weaken'd joints
Like ftrengthlefs bringes buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms; e'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, flufh'd with conqueft, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The rugged'ft 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 stage
To feed contention in a lingering act:
But let one spirit of the first-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: these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the bafelefs fabric of this vifion,
The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The folemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, fhall diffolve;
And, like this unsubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a wreck behind! We are fuch ftuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a fleep.

The Tempest, A. 4. Sc. I.


Like one of two contending in a prize,
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause and univerfal fhout,
Giddy in fpirit, gazing still in doubt,
Whether thofe peals of praife be his or no:
So (thrice fair lady!) ftand I, even so,
As doubtful whether what I fee be true,
Until confirm'd, fign'd, ratified by you.


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

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