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We have ftrict ftatutes and moft biting laws,
(The needful bits and curbs for headstrong steeds)
Which for these nineteen years we have let sleep;
Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,

That goes not out to prey: now, as fond fathers
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,
Only to flick it in their children's fight,
For terror, not to ufe; in time, the rod
Becomes more mock'd than fear'd: fo our decrees,
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
And Liberty plucks Juftice by the nose:
The baby beats the nurfe, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum. Measure for Measure, A. 1. Sc. 2.

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OLD AGE.

It is as common to Old Age

Hamlet, A. 2. Sc. 1.

To caft beyond itself in its opinions,
As it is common for the younger fort
To lack difcretion
Tho' I look old, yet I am ftrong and lufty;
For in my youth I never did apply
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood;
Nor did I with unbashful forehead woo
The means of weakness and debility:
Therefore

my age is as a lufty winter,
Frofty but kindly; let me go with you;
I'll do the fervice of a younger man
In all your business and neceffities.

As You Like It, A. 2. Sc. 3.

Tho' now this grained face of mine be hid
In fap-confuming winter's drizzled fnow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up;
Yet hath my night of life fome memory;
My wafting lamp fome fading glimmer left,
My dull deaf ears a little ufe to hear:
All these old witneffes, I cannot err,

Tell me, thou art my fon Antipholis.

Do

The Comedy of Errors, A. 5. Sc. 1.

you fet down your name in the fcroll of youth, that are written down old, with all the chrracters of age? Have

you not a moist eye-a dry hand-a yellow cheek--a white beard-a decreafing leg-an increafing belly ?-Is not your voice broken-your wind fhort-your chin double-your wit fingle-and every part of you blatted with antiquity?— And will you yet call yourself young ?-Fie, fie, fie! Henry IV. Part II. A. 1. Sc. 2.

OLD SONG.

Mark it, Cefario, it is old and plain;

The fpinfters and the knitters, in the fun,

And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do ufe to chant it: it is filly, footh,

And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.

Twelfth Night, A. 2. Sc. 3.

OMENS.

The owl fhriek'd at thy birth, an evil fign:

The night-crow cry'd a boding lucklefs tune:
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempefts fhook down trees:
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pyes in difmal difcord fung:
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet bought forth less than a mother's hope,
To wit, an indigeft deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of fuch a goodly tree.

Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou waft born,
To fignify, thou cam'ft to bite the world:

And, if the resft be true which I have heard,

Thou cam'ft into the world with thy legs forward.

Henry VI. Part III. A. 5. Sc. 7.

OMISSION.

Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves.
Omiffion to do what is neceffary,
Seals a commiffion to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, fubtly taints
Even then, when we fit idly in the fun.

OPHELIA

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

DROWNING.

There is a willow grows aflant a brook,

That thews his hoar leaves in the glafly stream:
There, with fantastic garlands, did the come,

Of

Of crow-flowers, nettlès, daifies, and long purples,
(That liberal fhepherds give a groffer name;
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them ;)
There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Clamb'ring to hang, an envious fliver broke ;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook: her clothes fpread wide,
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;
Which time the chaunted fnatches of old tunes,
As one incapable of her own diftrefs;

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element: but long it could not be,
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

OPINION.

Hamlet, A. 4. Sc. 16.

There is nothing, either good or bad,

But thinking makes it fo.

OPPORTUNI

Ibid. A. z. Sc. 6.

There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in fhallows, and in miferies.
On fuch a full fea are we now afloat;

And we must take the current when it ferves,

Or lofe our ventures.

Julius Cæfar, A. 4. 6c.

ORATION

Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I fhould fay
My tears gainfay; for every word I fpeak,
Ye fee, I drink the water of my eyes:

Therefore no more but this: Henry, your fovereign.
Is prifoner to the foe, his ftate ufurp'd,
His realm a flaughter-house, his fubjects flain,
His ftatutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this fpoil.
You fight in justice; then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant, and give fignal to the battle.

King Henry VI. Part IH. A. 5. Sc. 6.
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I fhall lack voice; the deeds of Coriolanus
Should not be uttered feebly.

It is held,

That valour is the chiefeft virture, and
Moft dignifies the haver: if it be,

The man, I fpeak of, cannot in the world
Be fingly counter-pois'd. At fixteen years,
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought
Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator,
Whom with all praise I point at, faw him fight,
When with his Amazonian chin he drove
The brittled lips before him: he beftrid
An o'erpreft Roman, and i' th' conful's view
Slew three oppofers: Tarquin's felf he met,
And ftruck him on his knee. In that day's feats,
When he might act the woman in the scene,
He prov'd th' best man i' th' field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age
Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a fea;

And in the brunt of feventeen battles fince,
He lurched all fwords o' th' garland.
Before and in Corioli, let me fay,

For this laft,

I cannot speak him home: he ftopt the flyers,
And by his rare example made the coward
Turn terror into fport. As waves before
A veffel under fail, fo men obey'd,

And fell below his ftern. His fword, death's stamp,
Where it did mark, it took from face to foot.
He was a thing of blood, whofe every motion
Was tim'd with dying cries. Alone he enter'd
The mortal gate o' th' city, which he painted
With fhunless destiny; aidless came off
And with a fudden re-enforcement ftruck
Corioli, like a planet. Nor all's this;
For by and by the din of war 'gan pierce
His ready fenfe, when ftraight his double fpirit
Requicken'd what in flefh was fatigate,
And to the battle came he; where he did
Run reeking o'er, the lives of men, as if
'Twere a perpetual fpoil; and till we call'd
Both field and city ours, he never stood
To eafe his breaft with panting.

Coriolanus, A. 2. Sc. 6.
Funeral

Funeral ORATION, after the language of Nature.
With faireft flowers,

While Summer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll fweeten thy fad grave: thou shalt not lack
The flower that's like thy face, pale primrofe; nor
The azure hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to flander,
Out-fweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would
With charitable bill (O bill fore-fhaming
Thofe rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!) bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd mofs besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corfe. Cymbeline, A. 4. Sc. z.

Othello's ORATION to the Senate.

Moft potent, grave, and reverend Seigniors,
My very noble and approved good mafters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is moft true; true I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending

Hath this extent-no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little blefs'd with the fet phrafe of peace;
For fince these arms of mine had feven years pith,
Till now fome nine moons wafted, they have us'd
Their deareft action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my

caufe

In fpeaking for myfelf: yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver:

Of my whole course of love; what drugs-what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic

(For fuch proceeding I am charged withal)
I won his daughter with.

Her father lov'd me, oft' invited me ;
Still queftion'd me the ftory of my life
From year to year-the battles, fieges, fortunes »
That I have pafs'd.

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I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
Wherein I fpake of moft difaftrous chances;
Of moving accidents by flood and field;

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