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There can be no kernel in this light nut.–LAF. II., 5.
'Tis not the many oaths, that make the truth ; but the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.—DIA. IV., 2.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.-1 LORD, IV., 3.
Thou may’st see a sun-shine and a hail in me at once : but to the brightest beams distracted clouds give way.--KING, V., 3.
We must do good against evil. -LAF. II., 5.
Which of them both is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense to make distinction.-COUNT. III., 4.
Who cannot be crushed with a plot ?-PAR. IV., 3.
We may pick a thousand sallads, ere we light on such another herb.-LAF. IV., 5.
We are old, and on our quick'st decrees the inaudi. ble and noiseless foot of time steals ere we can effect them.-KING, V., 3.
All places that the eye of heaven visits, are to a wise man ports and happy havens: teach thy necessity to reason thus; there is no virtue like necessity.-Gaunt. Act I., Scene 3.
All is uneven, and every thing is left at six and seven. -YORK, II., 2.
Awhile to work, and, after, holiday.-BOLING. III., 1.
Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, where nothing lives, but crosses, care, and grief.—YORK, II., 2.
Come, come, in wooing sorrow, let's be brief, since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.-K. Rich. V., 1.
Each day still better other's happiness; until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, add an immortal title to your crown !-NOR. I., 1.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, which shew like grief itself, but are not so: for sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, divides one thing entire to many objects ; like perspectives, which, rightly gaz'd upon, shew nothing but confusion.-Bushy, II., 2.
Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor, which, till my infant fortune comes to years, stands for my bounty.--BOLING. II., 3.
Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite the man that mocks at it, and sets it light.-GAUNT. I., 3.
How long a time lies in one little word! four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, end in a word ; Such is the breath of kings.-BOLING. I., 3.
Heaven hath a hand in these events ; to whose high will we bound our calm contents.-YORK. V., 2.
How sour sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept !-K. Rich. V., 5.
I will despair, and be at emnity with cozening hope ; he is a flatterer, a parasite, a keeper-back of death, who gently would dissolve the bands of life, which false hope lingers in extremity.-QUEEN, II., 2.
If angels fight, weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the right.-K. RICH. III., 2.
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Is not the king's name forty thousand names ?-K. Rich. III., 2.
Is there no plot to rid the realm of this pernicious blot ?-Aum. IV., 1.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.K. Rich. V., 5.
Lions make leopards tame.-K. Rich. I., 1.
Let them go to ear the land that hath some hope to grow.-K. Rich. III., 2.
The state and inclination of the day :
SCROOP. III., 2.
Must I ravel out my weav'd-up follies ?-K. Rich. IV., 1.
My grief lies all within; and these external manners of lament are merely shadows to the unseen grief, that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul ; there lies the substance.-K. Rich. IV., 1.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea can wash the balm from an anointed king: the breath of worldly men cannot depose the deputy elected by the Lord.-K. Rich. III., 2.
Nothing can we call our own, but death; and that small model of the barren earth, which serves as paste and cover to our bones.-K. Rich. III., 2.
O, flattering glass, like to my followers in prosperity, thou dost beguile me!-K. Rich. IV., 1.
Pride must have a fall.-K. Rich. V., 5.
Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky, the uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.-BOLING. I., 1.
Sweet love, I see, changing his property, turns to the sourest and most deadly hate.—SCROOP, III., 2.
So two, together weeping, make one woe.-K. Rich.
The purest treasure mortal times afford, is-spotless reputation; that away, men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times-barr’d-up chest is—a bold spirit in a loyal breast.--NOR. I., 1.
That which in mean men we entitle-patience, is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.-Duch. I., 2.
· That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me ; and those his golden beams, to you here lent, shall point on me, and gild my banishment.--BOLING. II., 3.