When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do when riot is thy care?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants.

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

PATIENCE.

Ceafe to lament for what thou canst not help,
And ftudy help from that which thou lament'ft.
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good:
There if thou stay, thou canst not fee thy love;
Befides, thy ftaying will abridge thy life.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3.

How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?

Sc. 1.

Thou know'ft we work by wit, and not by witchcraft; And wit depends on dilatory time.

Othello, A. 2. Sc. 3.

Patience unmov'd, no marvel though fhe paufe;
They can be meek that have no other cause :
A wretched foul, bruis'd with adversity,
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry;
But, were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain :
So thou, that haft no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience would'ft relieve me :
But if thou live to fee like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.

The Comedy of Errors, A. 2. Sc. I.

PATRIOTIS M.

If it be aught toward the general good,

Set honour in one eye, and death i'the other,
And I will look on both indifferently;

For let the Gods fo fpeed me as I love

The name of honour more than I fear death.

Julius Cæfar, A. 1. Sc. 2.

PATRONAGE.

O momentary grace of mortal men,

Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks,

Lives like a drunken failor on a mast,

G 2

Read

Ready with
every nod to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

Richard 111. A. 3.

Sc. 4

PEACE.

So fhaken as we are, fo wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils,
To be commenc'd in ftronds afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this foil

Shall damp her lips with her own children's blood:
No more fhall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruife her flow'rets with the armed hoofs
Of hoftile paces. Thofe oppofed eyes,
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heav'n,
All of one nature, of one fubftance bred,
Did lately meet in the inteftine fhock
And furious clofe of civil butchery,
Shall now in mutual well-befeeming ranks
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-fheathed knife,
No more fhall cut his mafter.

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

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,
Our bruifed arms hung up for monuments,
Our ftern alarumns chang'd to merry-meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures:
Grim-vifag'd war hath fmooth'd his wrinkled front,
And now-inftead of mounting barbed fteeds
To fright the fouls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly, in a lady's chamber,
To the lafcivious pleafing of a lute.

Richard III. A. 1. S£. 1.

PEACE AND WAR.

In peace there's nothing fo becomes a man
As modeft ftillaefs and humility:

But when the blaft of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tyger—;
Stiffen the finews, fummon up the blood,
Difguile fair nature with hard-favour'd rage:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let

Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brafs cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded bafe,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now fet the teeth, and ftretch the noftril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height.

When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a promile to return again

Within an hour, and pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of fweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befell! he threw his eye afide,
And mark what object did prefent itself.
Under an oak, whofe boughs were mois'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity,

A wretched, ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay fleeping on his back: about his neck

A green and gilded fnake had wreath'd itfelf,,

Who, with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
The opening of his mouth, but, fuddenly

Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,

And, with indented glides, did flip away
Into a bush, under which bush's fhade

A lionefs, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with eat-like watch,

When that the fleeping

an fhould fir; for 'tis

To prey on nothing that

The royal difpofition of that beaft

doth feem as dead.

As You Like It, A. 4. Sc. 1,

PERSEVERANCE.

Time hath, my Lord, a wallet at his back,

Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion,

A great-fiz'd monfter of Ingratitude's :

Thofe fcraps are good deeds paft, which are devour'd As faft as they are made, forgot as foon

As done.- Perfeverance, dear my Lord,
Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang
Quite out of fallion, like a ruffy nail,

In monumental mockery. Take the inftant way,
For honour travels in a ftreight so narrow,

Where one but goes abreaft: Keep then the path;
For Emulation hath a thousand fons,

That one by one purfue; if you give way,
Or hedge afide from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmoft.-

Or, like a gallant horfe, fall'n in first rank,
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,

O'er-run and trampled on: Then, what they do in prefent,

Though lefs than yours in paft, muft o'ertop yours;
For Time is like a fashionable host,

That flightly shakes his parting gueft by the hand,
And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly,
Grafps in the comer: Welcome ever finiles,

And farewell goes out fighing, O! let not Virtue feek
Remuneration for the thing it was; for beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, defert in service,

Love, friendship, charity, are fubjects all

To envious and calumniating Time.

Troilus and Creffida, A. 3. Sc. 3.

PERSEVERANCE

IN LOVE.

A woman fometimes scorns what best contents her:

Send her another; never give her o'er ;
For fcorn at first, makes after love the more.
If the do frown, 'tis not in hate of you,
But rather to beget more love in you:
If fhe do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;
For why the fools are mad if left alone.
Take no repulfe, whatever fhe doth say;
For, get you gone, fhe doth not mean, away!
Flatter, and praife, commend, extol their graces;
Tho' ne'er fo black, fay they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I fay, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3.

-Strange is it that our bloods,

Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound diftinction, yet ftand off

Sc. I.

In differences fo mighty. If the be

All that is virtuous (fave what thou diflik'st,
A poor phyfician's daughter) thou diflik'it
Of virtue for the name: but do not fo.
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignify'd by th' doer's deed.
Where great addition fwells, and virtue none,
It is a dropfy'd honour; good alone,
Is good without a name. Vileness is fo:
The property by what it is fhould go,
Not by the title. She is young, wife, fair;
In thefe to Nature fhe's immediate heir;

And these breed honour: That is honour's fcorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the fire. Honours beft thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive,
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a flave,
Debauch'd on every tomb, on every grave;
A lying trophy and as oft is dumb,

Where duft and damn'd oblivion is the tomb
Of honour'd bones, indeed.

All's Well that Ends Well, A. 2. Sc. 3.

PERTURBATION

OF MIND.

If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly.: If the affaffination
Could trammel up the confequence, and catch,
With his furceafe, fuccefs; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all, here,
But here, upon this bank and thoal of time,-
We'd jump the life to come.-But, in these cafes,
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody inftructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor: This even-handed juftice
Commends the ingredients of our poifon'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double truft;
First, as I am his kinfinan, and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his hoft,
Who fhould against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Befides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties fo meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues