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I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have:
And they that are moit' galled with my folly,
They most must laugh : And why, Sir, muit they so?
The why is plain as way to parish-church:
He whom a fool doth very wisely hit,
Doth very foolishly, although he smart,
Not to feem senseless of the bob. If not,
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd,
Even by the squandering glances of a fool.
Inveft me in my motley, give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

As You Like It, A. 2. Sc. 5.

But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword ;
Came there a certain Lord, neat, trimly dress’d,
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new-reap?d,
Shew'd like a stubble land at harvest-home :
He was perfumed like a milliner;
And, 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held
A pouncer-box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose (and took 't away again!
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff). And still he smild and talk'd ::
And, as the soldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call’d them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He question'd me; amongst the rest, demanded
My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf.
I then, all smarting with my wounds, being cold,
Out of my grief, and my impatience
To be so peiter'd with a popinjay,


Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;
He should, or should not: for he made me mad
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,
Of guns, and drums, and wounds (God save the mark!),
And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was fpermaceti, for an inward bruile;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villanous faltpetre should be digg'a
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.

Henry IV, Part I. A. 1. Sc. 4.


-You were used To say, extremity was the trier of fpirits; That common chances, common men could bear; That when the sea was calm, all boats alike Shew'd mastership in floating. Fortune's blows When most struck home, being gentle-wounded, crave A noble cunning.

Coriolanus, A. 4. Sc. I. ---- In the reproof of chance Lies the true proof of men. The sea being smooth, How many shallow bauble boats dare fail Upon her patient breait, making their way With those of nobler bulk ! But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage The gentle Thetis, and anon, behold The strong-ribb?d bark through liquid mountains cut, Bounding between the two moist elements Like Perseus' horse : where's then the saucy boat, Whose weak, untimber'd fides, but even now, Co-rivall'd greatness? either to harbour fled, Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so Doth valour's Thew, and valour's vorth, divide In storms of fortune.' For, in her ray and brightness, The herd hath more annoyance by the brize Than by the tyger ; but when the splitting winds Make flexible the knees of knotted oaks,


And Alies flee under fhade, why then the king of courage
As rous'd with rage, with rage doth fympathise,
And, with an accent tan'd in self fame key,
Returns to chiding fortune.

Troilus and Cressida, A. 1. Sc. 3.
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none. Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 7.

Grieve not, that I am fall'n to this for you:
For herein Fortune shews herself more kind
Than is her custom. It is still her use
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
An age of poverty; from which ling’ring penance
Of such a misery doch he cut me off.

The Merchant of Venice, 'A. 4. Sc. 1.
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in fouleft letters?
She either gives a stomach and no food;
Such are the poor in health : or else a feast,
And takes away the itomach ; such the rich
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

Henry IV. Part II. A. 4. Sc. 9.


(Hamlet's profesion of it to Horatio.) Horatio, thou art e’en as just a man As e'er my conversation cop'd withal.

-Nay do not think I flatter:
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast, but thy good fpirits,
To feed and clothe thee? Why Ihould the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the candied tongue

lick absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,
Where thrift may follow fawning Doft thou hear ?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for herfelf; for thou hast been,
As one, in fuffering all, has suffer'd nothing,
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards


Hath ta’en with equal thanks: and bleft are those
Whofe blood and judgment are so well comingled,
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger,
To found what ftop lhe pleafe: Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
heart's core, aye,


my heart of heart, As I do thee.

Hamlet, A. 3. Sc. 2,



Friendship is constant in all other things,
Save in the office and affairs of love;
Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues ;
Let every eye negociate for itself,
And trust no agent: beauty is a witch,
Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

Much Ada about Nothing, A. 2. Sc. lo


-Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he fits down?
Where is the horse, that doth untread again
His tedious measures with th' unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased then enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the ftrumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged fails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind !

The Merchant of Venice, A. 2. Sc. 6

-Lay her i' th' earth;
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,
A minist’ring angel shall my sister be,
When thou liest howling:

Hamlet, A. 5. Sc. 2.
Guid. Fear no more the heat o'th' sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages :

Thou thy worldly talk haft done,

Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to duft.
Arv. Fear no more the frown o'th' great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak;
The sceptre, learning, phyfic, must

All follow this, and come to dust.
Guid. Fear no more the lightning flash,

Arv. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone, Guid. Fear not slander, censure rash.

Arv. Thou hast finish”d joy and moan.
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dut..
Guid. No exorciser harm thee!
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Guid. Ghost, unlaid, forbear thee!
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee!
Both. Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave:

Cymbeline, A. 4, Sc. 4,

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Now he'll out-stare the lightning. To be furious,,
Is to be frighted out of fear; and, in that mood,
The dove will peck the eltrich; and, I see itill,
A diminution in our captain's brain
Reitores his heart. When valour preys on reason,
It eats the sword it fights with.

Antony and Cleopatra, A. 3. Sc. 10.





Reverend Sirs,
For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep
Seeming and savour all the winter long :
Grace and remembrance be into you both,
And welcome to our fhearing.

The Winter's Tale, A. 4. Sc.3.


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