Page images
PDF
EPUB

I could do more to do Antonius good,
But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
Should my performance perish.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 3, s. 1.

BIG HEARTS CANNOT DESCEND TO
FLATTERY.

WELL said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth,
In this fine age, were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy

The tongues of soothers; but a braver place
In
my heart's love, hath no man than yourself:
Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord.

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 4, s. 1.

BITTERNESS OF PARTING.

HARK! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius so Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die.Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. Where are my tears ? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root?

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, s. 4.

BITTERNESS OF PARTING.

CRESSIDA. O you immortal Gods!-I will

not go.

I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father;

I know no touch of consanguinity;

No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus.-O you gods divine!
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can;
But the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,

Drawing all things to it.-I'll go in, and weep ;— Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised cheeks;

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart.
PANDARUS. Be moderate, be moderate.
CRES. Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth in a sense as strong

As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it?
If I could temporize with my affection,
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,
The like allayment could I give my grief:
My love admits no qualifying dross:
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, s. 3.

BRAVERY OF THE PLANTAGENETS.

YORK. The army of the

queen

hath got the

field:

My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe

Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind,
Or lambs pursu'd by hungry starved wolves.
My sons,-God knows, what hath bechanced
them:

But this I know,-they have demean❜d themselves

Like men born to renown, by life, or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me;
And thrice cried,-Courage, father! fight it out!
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encounter'd him:
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried,-Charge! and give no foot of
ground!

And cried,-A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!

With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas!
We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan
With bootless labour swim against the tide,
And spend her strength with overmatching waves.
[A short alarum within.

Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue ;
And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury:
And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
The sands are number'd, that make up my life;
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTH-
UMBERLAND, and Soldiers.

Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchless fury more to rage;
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 1, s. 4.

CÆSAR'S APPRECIATION OF HIM-
SELF UNWORTHY OF HIMSELF.
I COULD be well moved, if I were as you;
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me:
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality,

There is no fellow in the firmament.

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks,
They are all fire, and every one doth shine;
But there's but one in all doth hold his place:
So, in the world; 'Tis furnish'd well with men,
And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive;
Yet, in the number, I do know but one,
That unassailable holds on his rank,
Unshak'd of motion: and, that I am he,
Let me a little show it, even in this;

That I was constant, Cimber should be banish'd,
And constant do remain to keep him so.

JULIUS CESAR, A. 3, s. 1.

CALUMNY DESTRUCTIVE.

You, my lords,

Look on her, mark her well; be but about

To say, she is a goodly lady, and

The justice of your hearts will thereto add, 'Tis pity, she's not honest, honourable :

Praise her but for this, her without-door form, (Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,) and straight

The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, That calumny doth use:-O, I am out,

That mercy does; for calumny will sear

Virtue itself:-these shrugs, these hums, and ha's,

When you have said, she's goodly, come between, Ere you can say she's honest: But be it known, From him that has most cause to grieve it should be,

She's an adultress.

WINTER'S TALE, A. 2, s. 1.

CARNAL FRIENDSHIP FLEETING.

I SCORN thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should

Ne'er flatter thee.-O you gods! what a number
Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not!
It grieves me to see so many dip their meat
In one man's blood; and all the madness is,
He cheers them up too.

I wonder men dare trust themselves with men : Methinks, they should invite them without knives;

Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. There's much example for't; the fellow, that Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges

The breath of him in a divided draught,

Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been prov'd.

If I

Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at

meals;

Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous

notes:

Great men should drink with harness on their

throats.

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, s. 2.

CATCHING A SHREW IN HER
OWN NET.

PETRUCHIO. What is this ? mutton?

'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat :

What dogs are these?-Where is the rascal cook?

« PreviousContinue »