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I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad. As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.

I'll warrant him heart-whole.

Good orators, when they are out, they will spit.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Men have died from time to time, and worms have

eaten them, but not for love.

Ibid.

Can one desire too much of a good thing? 1

Ibid.

For ever and a day.

Ibid.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.

The horn, the horn, the lusty horn

Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.

It is meat and drink to me.

Ibid.

Sc. 2.

Sc. 3.

Act v. Sc. 1.

"So so" is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so so.

Ibid.

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.

I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.

Ibid.

Ibid.

No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy.

Sc. 2.

How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes!

Ibid.

Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.

1 Too much of a good thing.

i. chap. vi.

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2 "Cud" in Dyce and Staunton.

An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own.

As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.

Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster.

Ibid.

The Retort Courteous; .. the Quip Modest; . the Reply Churlish; . . . the Reproof Valiant; . . . the Countercheck Quarrelsome; . . . the Lie with Circumstance; . . . the Lie Direct.

Ibid.

Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If. Ibid. Good wine needs no bush.1

What a case am I in.

Epilogue.

Ibid.

Look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror.

The Taming of the Shrew.

Induc. Sc. 1.

Let the world slide.2

I'll not budge an inch.

As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en;
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
There's small choice in rotten apples.

Nothing comes amiss; so money comes withal.
Tush tush! fear boys with bugs.

And do as adversaries do in law,

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Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Sc. 2.

Act i. Sc. 1.

Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.

Ibid.

Sc. 2.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

1 You need not hang up the ivy branch over the wine that will sell. PUBLIUS SYRUS: Maxim 968.

2 See Heywood, page 9.

Money.

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER : Wit without

8 Married in haste, we may repent at leisure. - CONGREVE: The Old Bachelor, act v. sc. 1.

And thereby hangs a tale.

My cake is dough.

The Taming of the Shrew. Act iv. Sc. 1.

A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, -
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband.
"T were all one

That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it.

Act v. Sc. 1.

Sc. 2.

Ibid.

All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1.

The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love.

Ibid.

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,
Which we ascribe to Heaven.

Service is no heritage.

He must needs go that the devil drives.1

My friends were poor but honest.

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises.

I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught.

Ibid.

Sc. 3.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

Sc. 2.

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed.

They say miracles are past.

Sc. 3.

Ibid.

All the learned and authentic fellows.

Ibid.

A young man married is a man that's marr'd.

Ibid.

Make the coming hour o'erflow with joy,
And pleasure drown the brim.

No legacy is so rich as honesty.

1 See Heywood, page 18.

Sc. 4.

Act iii. Sc. 5

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill

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The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.

Ibid.

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:

O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound 2
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour!

I am sure care 's an enemy to life.

At my fingers' ends.

8

Wherefore are these things hid?

Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.

Sc. 3.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Is it a world to hide virtues in?

Ibid.

One draught above heat makes him a fool; the second

mads him; and a third drowns him.

Sc. 5.

We will draw the curtain and show you the picture.

Ibid.

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:

Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive

If you will lead these graces to the grave
And leave the world no copy.

Ibid.

1 How noiseless falls the foot of time !-W. R. SPENCER: Lines to Lady A. Hamilton.

2 "Like the sweet south" in Dyce and Singer. This change was made at the suggestion of Pope.

8 See Heywood, page 12.

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out.

Journeys end in lovers meeting,

Every wise man's son doth know.

Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.

Act ü. Sc. 3.

Ibid.

He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

Ibid.

Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

Ibid.

Sir To. Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too.

My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.

These most brisk and giddy-paced times.

Let still the woman take

An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Sc. 4.

Ibid.

Then let thy love be younger than thyself,

Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun

Ibid.

And the free maids that weave their thread with bones

Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,

And dallies with the innocence of love,

Like the old age.

Duke.

And what's her history?

Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,

Ibid

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