And live a coward in thine own esteem;
Letting I dare not wait upon I would,

Ι
Like the poor cat i' the adage ?
MACBETH.

Pr'ythee, peace : I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none. LADY M.

What beast was it then, That made

you

break this enterprise to me? When

you

durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place, Did then adhere, and yet you would make both : They have made themselves, and that their fitness

now

Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
How tender ’tis, to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you
Have done to this.
МАСв.

If we should fail,
LADY M.

We fail !
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep,
(Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
Soundly invite him,) his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and wassel so convince,

the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
A limbeck only: When in swinish sleep
Their drenched natures lie, as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon
His spongy officers; who shall bear the guilt
Of our great crime ?

МАСв. Bring forth men children only;

That memory,

a

For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv'd, When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy

two Of his own chamber, and us’d their very daggers, That they have done't ? LADY M.

Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death ? MACB.

I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show : False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

MACBETH, A. 1, s. 7.

EVIL MINDS DELIGHT IN SCANDAL.

OPEN your ears ; For which of you will stop
The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks?
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth :
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride;
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only I,
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence;
Whilst the big year, swol'n with some other grief,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter! Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,

That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it.

K. HENRY IV., PART II., Induction.

EVIL PERSONIFIED. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence,—whom I, indeed, have laid in dark

ness, I do beweep to many simple gulls; Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham; And tell them—'tis the queen and her allies, That stir the king against the duke my brother. Now they believe it; and withal whet me To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture, Tell them—that God bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe

my

naked villainy With old odd ends, stol’n forth of holy writ, And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, s. 3.

a

EVIL RECOILS.
O, THAT this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O

God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world !
Fye on't! O fye! ’tis an unweeded garden,

’

That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in

nature, Possess it merely. That it should come to this ! But two months dead !—nay, not so much, not

two; So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not let e’en the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite

had

grown By what it fed on: And yet, within a month, Let me not think on't;—Frailty, thy name is

woman !A little month; or ere those shoes were old, With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears :—why she, even she,O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer,-married with my

uncle, My father's brother; but no more like Than I to Hercules : Within a month; Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married :-0 most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! It is not, nor it cannot come to, good; But break, my heart ; for I must hold my tongue!

HAMLET, A. 1, s. 2.

my father,

EVILS OF DIVIDED COUNCILS. EXETER. How were they lost? what treachery

was us’d ? MESSENGER. No treachery; but want of men

Among the soldiers this is muttered, —
That here you maintain several factions ;
And, whilst a field should be despatch'd and

fought,
You are disputing of your generals.
One would have ling’ring wars, with little cost;
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings;
A third man thinks, without expense at all,
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.
Awake, awake, English nobility!
Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot;
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
Of England's coat one-half is cut away.

K. HENRY VI., PART I., A. 1, s. l.

a

:

EXTINCT ANTIPATHIES. How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him, for he is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe, If I forgive him!

MERCHANT OP VENICE, A. 1, s. 3.

EXTREMITY OF EVIL.

DISEASES, desperate gown,
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
Or not at all.

HAMLET, A. 4, s. 3.