The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war
A pain that only seems to feek out danger
I'the name of fame and honour, which dies i'the fearch, And halt as oft a flariderous epitaph
As record of fair act; nay, many times
Doth ill defence by doing well; what's worse,
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
First with the best of hotes: 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 oaths prevail'd
Before my perfect honour, fwore to Cymbeline
I was confederate with the Romans, fo
Followed my banishment; and thefe twenty years,
This rock, as these 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 shall eat no poifon; which attend
In place of greater state.
CONTENTION.
-Contention, like a horfe
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loofe, s
And bears down all before him.
CONTIN ENCE.
If thou doft break her virgin knot, before
All fanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy right be miniftred,
No fweet afperfions fhall the heav'ns let fall
To make this contract grow; but barren hate,
Sour-ey'd difdain, and discord fhall 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 ftrongest oaths are straw
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 murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strong'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' steeds are founder'd, Or night kept chain'd below.
Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tafting it,
Their counfel turns to paffion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter ftrong madness with a filken thread, an?
Charm ach with air, and agony with words.
No, no; 'tis all men's office to fpeak patience
To thofe that wring under the load of forrow;
But no man's virtue, nor fufficiency,
To be fo moral, when he shall endure
The like himself: therefore give me no counsel
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Much ado about Nothing, A. 4. Sc. 1.
COUNTRY LAS S.
This is the prettieft low-born lafs, that ever
Ran on the green ford; nothing fhe does or feems
Too noble for this place.
But fmacks of fomething greater than herself,
The Winter's Tale, A. 4. Sc. 3.
By how much unexpected, by so much
We muft 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 defert with thy fword ;
If trembling I inhabit, then proteft me
The baby of a girl.
He had the wit which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest,
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 fharpness, if there were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exceptions bid him speak; 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. Sc. 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 C
Moift it again; and frame fome feeling line
That may discover fuch integrity:
For Orpheus' lyre was ftrung with poets' finews,
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
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 sweet concert; to their inftruments
Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead filence
Will well become fuch sweet complaining grievance.
This, or elfe nothing, will inherit her.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 3. Sc. z.
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 steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind.
Cold wisdom waiting on fuperfluous folly.
All's Well that Ends Well, A. 1. Sc. 1.
That which in mean men we entitle patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
King Richard II. A. 1. Sc. 2.
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 moft fond and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out.
CROSSES I N LOVE.
The courfe of true love never did run smooth
Or, if there were a fympathy in choice,
War, death, or ficknefs, 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 confusion.
A Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 1. Sc. 1.
Send danger from the Eaft unto the Weft,
So honour crofs it from the North to South;
And let them grapple.-O! the blood more ftirs
To rouse a lion than to ftart a hare.
Henry IV. Part I. A. 1. Sc. 3.
A fceptre, fnatch'd with an unruly hand,
Muft be as boift'rously maintain'd as gain'd.
And he, that ftands upon a flippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
King John, A. 3. Sc. 4.
The wolves have prey'd; and, look, the gentle day, Before the wheels of Phabus, 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 these 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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