Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. Act 2, Sc. 2. Friar Laurence. O, mickle is the powerful grace, that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities; Act 2, Sc. 3. Friar. Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; Friar. Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, Act 2, Sc. 3. Rom. I am the very pink of courtesy.—Act 2, Sc. 4. Jul. Love's heralds should be thoughts, Friar. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in its own deliciousness, Act 2, Sc. 5. And in the taste confounds the appetite :-Act 2, Sc. 6. Mer. Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat. Act 3, Sc. I. Jul. Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, H Take him and cut him out in little stars, And pay no worship to the garish sun.—Act 3, Sc. 2. Friar. Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.-Act 3, Sc. 3. Rom. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Act 3, Sc. 5. Jul. It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Act 3, Sc. 5. Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, And hide me with a dead man in his shroud: Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. Cap. Death lies on her, like an untimely frost, Act 4, Sc. I. Act 4, Sc. 5. Rom. My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne. Rom. I do remember an apothecary,— Act 5, Sc. I. And hereabouts he dwells,-which late I noted Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' Apothecary. My poverty, but not my will, consents. Rom. How oft when men are at the point of death Act 5, Sc. 3. TIMON OF ATHENS. Poet. Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourished: the fire i' the flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame Apem. Art not a poet? Poet. Yes. Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou hast feigned him a worthy fellow. Poet. That's not feigned; he is so. Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer. Act 1, Sc. I. Apem. Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; Or a keeper with my freedom; Or my friends, if I should need 'em. Amen. So fall to 't: Rich men sin, and I eat root.-Act 1, Sc. 2. Timon. What need we have any friends, if we should ne'er have need of them?-Act 1, Sc. 2. Apem. Like madness is the glory of this life, Who lives that's not depraved or depraves? I should fear those that dance before me now Act 1, Sc. 2. Flavius. Happier is he that has no friend to feed, Apem. O! that men's ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery.—Act 1, Sc. 2. I Stran. O see the monstrousness of man, Act 3, Sc. 2. 2 Var. Serv. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? Such may rail against great buildings.-Act 3, Sc. 4. I Sen. He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs To bring it into danger. If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill.-Act 3, Sc. 5. |