Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feaft?
Or wallow naked in December (now,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ?
Oh no! the apprehenfion of the good,
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse;
Fell forrow's tooth doth never rankle more
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the fore.
King Richard II. A. 2. Sc. 31
O, gentlemen, the time of life is short:
To spend that fhortnefs bafely, were too lông,
Tho' life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at th' arrival of an hour.
Henry IV. Part I. A. 5. Sc. 5.
TOOLS I N OFF I C E.
Octavius, I have seen more days than you :
And though we lay those honours on this man,
To ease ourselves of divers flanderous loads,
He shall but bear them as the afs bears gold,
To groan and fweat under the business,
Either led, or driven, as he points the way;
And having brought our treasure where we will,
Then take we down his load, and turn him off,.
Like to the empty afs, to fhake his ears,
in commons. Julius Cæfar, A. 4. Sc. i..
TORM EN TA
Thou beft know?ft
What torment I did find thee in: thy groans
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts
Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not undo again. The Tempest, A. 1. Sc. 2.
TRAVELLING.
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
Wer't not affection chains thy tender days
To the fweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company,
To fee the wonders of the world abroad,
Than (living dully fluggardiz'd at home)
Wear out thy youth with fhapelefs idleness.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 1. Sc. I..
TRU E LOVE.
if thou fhalt ever love,
In the fweet pangs of it, remember me:
For fuch as I am, all true lovers are;
Unftaid and fkittish in all motions elfe,
Save in the conftant image of the creature
That is belov'd.
Twelfth Night, A. 2. Sc. 4.
He fays he loves my daughter::
I think fo too; for never gaz'd the moon
Upon the water, as he'll ftand and read
As 'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think there is not half a kifs to chufe
The Winter's Tale, A. 4. Sc. 3.
Almoft afraid to know itfelf! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once feen to smile;
Where fighs and groans, and fhrieks, that rend the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent forrow seems
A modern ecstasy: the dead man's knell
Is there fcarce afk'd, for whom; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying, or ere they ficken.
But Value dwell's not in particular will;
It holds his estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself
As in the prizer: "Tis mad idolatry
To make the fervice greater than the god;
And the will doats, that is inclinable
To what infectioufly itself affects,
Without fome image of the affected merit.
Troilus and Crefida, A. 2. Sc. 2.
O F THE WORLD.
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
A ftage, where every man must play his part,
And mine a fad one. Merchant of Venice, A. 1. Sc. 1.
O F PLEASURE S.
Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,
Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
Love's Labour Loft, A. 1. Sc. 1..
VANITY O F POWER.
No matter where: Of comfort no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make duft our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write forrow on the bofom of the earth!
Let's chufe executors, and talk of wills;
And yet not fofor what can we bequeath,
Save our depofed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all, are Bolingbroke's;
And nothing can we call our own but death,
And that small model of the barren earth
Which ferves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's fake, let us fit upon the ground,
And tell fad ftories of the death of kings;
How fome have been depos'd, fome flain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they difpoffefs'd,
Some poifon'd by their wives, fome fleeping kill'd,
All murther'd.
Richard II. A. 3. Sc. 2
But virtue, as it never will be moved,.
Though lewdness court it in a fhape of heaven;
So luft, though to a radiant angel link'd,
Will fate itself in a celeftial bed,
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd
Than fpotted livers in the facrifice.
Troilus and Creffida, A. 5. Sc. 3.
Your greatest want is, you want much of meat.
Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots;
Within this mile break forth an hundred fprings:
The oak, bears maft, the briars fcarlet hips;
The bounteous housewife, Nature, on each bufh
Lays her full mefs before you-Want? Why want?
Timon of Athens, A. 4. Sc. 3-
WANT ON NE S S.
Fie-Fie upon her!
There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip;
Nay her foot fpeaks, her wanton fpirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.
O thefe encounterers, fo glib of tongue,
That give a coafting welcome cre it comes,
And wide unclafp the tables of their thoughts.
To every ticklish reader! fet them down
For fluttish fpoils of opportunity.
Troilus and Crefida, A. 4. Sc. 5.
WARRIOR,
I faw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuiffes on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rife from the ground like feather'd Mercury;
And vaulted with fuch eafe into his feat,
As if an angel dropt down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegafus,
And witch the world with-noble horfemanship.
Hen. IV. Part I. A. 4. Sc. z
I do think it is their husbands faults,
If wives do fall: Say that they flack their duties,
And pour our treafures into foreign laps;
Or elfe break out in peevish jealoufies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or fay they strike us,
Or fcant our former having in defpight:
Why we have galls; and though we have fome grace,
Yet have we fome revenge. Let hufbands know,
Their wives have fenfe like them; they fee, and smell,
And have their palates both for fweet and four,
As husbands have-What is it they do
When they change us for others? Is it fport?
I think it is. And doth affection breed it?
I think it doth. Is it frailty that thus errs?
It is fo too. And have not we affections,
Defires for fport, and frailty, as men have?
Then let them ufe us well: else let them know,
The ills we do, their ills inftru&t us to.
Fie! fie! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow,
And dart not fcornful glances from thofe eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.
It blots thy beauty, as frofts bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds;
And in no fenfe is meet or amiable.
A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill feeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And, while it is fo, none fo dry or thirsty
Will deign to fip or touch one drop of it.
Thy hufband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy fovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance; commits his body
To painful labour, both by fea and land,
To watch the night in ftorms, the day in cold,
While thou ly'ft warm at home, fecure and fafe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience;
Too little payment for fo great a debt.
Such duty as the fubject owes the prince,
Even fuch a woman oweth to her husband:
And when she's froward, peevish, fullen, four,
And not obedient to his honeft will,
What is the but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am ashamed, that women are fo fimple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or feek for rule, fupremacy, and fway,
When they are bound to ferve, love and obey.
Why are our bodies foft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our foft conditions and our hearts
with- our external parts?
The Taming of the Shrew, A. 5. Sc. 2.
(Solliciting the Caufe of her Husband's Uneafinefs of Mind:) -You have ungently, Brutus,
Stole from my bed: and yefternight, at supper,
|