The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Let no such man be trusted. The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1. How far that little candle throws his beams! Ibid. Ibid. This night methinks is but the daylight sick. Ibid. Ibid. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Ibid. We will answer all things faithfully. Ibid. Fortune reigns in gifts of the world. As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2. The little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Ibid. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. Ibid. Your heart's desires be with you! Ibid. One out of suits with fortune. Ibid. Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. O, how full of briers is this working-day world! Ibid. Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Ibid. We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, Ibid. Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1 The big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase. "Poor deer," quoth he, "thou makest a testament To that which had too much." Ibid. As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens. And He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, For in my youth I never did apply Ibid. Ibid. Sc. 3. Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood. O, good old man, how well in thee appears Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I. When I was at home I was in a better place; but travellers must be content. Sc. 4. I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. Ibid. And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7. And then he drew a dial from his poke, Thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags.” Ibid. And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.1 Ibid. My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; An hour by his dial. Motley's the only wear. If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit With observation, the which he vents Ibid. Ibid. After a voyage, In mangled forms. Ibid. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please. Ibid. The "why" is plain as way to parish church. Ibid. Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast. Ibid. True is it that we have seen better days. Ibid. 1 The same in The Taming of the Shrew, act iv. sc. 1; in Othello, act iii. sc. 1; in The Merry Wives of Windsor, act i. sc. 4; and in As You Like It, act ii. sc. 7. RABELAIS: book v. chap. iv. And wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd. As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7. Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. And all the men and women merely players.1 And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Ibid. Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. Ibid. 1 The world's a theatre, the earth a stage, THOMAS HEYWOOD: Apology for Actors. 1612. A noble farce, wherein kings, republics, and emperors have for so many ages played their parts, and to which the whole vast universe serves for a theatre.-MONTAIGNE: Of the most Excellent Men. Blow, blow, thou winter wind! As man's ingratitude. As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7. The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. Act iii. Sc. 2. It goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? Ibid. He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends. This is the very false gallop of verses. Let us make an honourable retreat. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. With bag and baggage. O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping. Answer me in one word. I do desire we may be better strangers. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. Ibid. Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellowfault came to match it. Neither rhyme nor reason.1 I would the gods had made thee poetical. Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Sc. 5. It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. I have gained my experience. 1 See Spenser, page 30. Act iv. Sc. 1. |