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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1564-1616.

(From the text of Clark and Wright.)

I would fain die a dry death.

acre of barren ground.

The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an

What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness and the bettering of my mind.

Like one

Who having into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,

Ibid.

Sc. 2.

Ibid.

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The fringed curtains of thine eye advance.

The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with 't.

Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live:

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Ibid.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

Fer. Here's my hand.

Mir. And mine, with my heart in 't.

He that dies pays all debts.

A kind

Of excellent dumb discourse.

Deeper than e'er plummet sounded.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air :
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

With foreheads villanous low.

Sc. 2.

Ibid.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

Sc. 2.

Sc. 3.

Ibid.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

Ibid.

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Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.

The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act i. Sc. 1.

I have no other but a woman's reason:
I think him so, because I think him so.
O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day!
And if it please you, so; if not, why, so.

O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible,

Sc. 2.

Sc. 3.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

As a nose on a man's face,1 or a weathercock on a steeple.

She is mine own,

And I as rich in having such a jewel

As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl,

Ibid.

The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

Sc. 4.

He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.

Sc. 7.

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
Except I be by Sylvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale.

A man I am, cross'd with adversity.

Is she not passing fair?

How use doth breed a habit in a man! 2

O heaven! were man

But constant, he were perfect.

Come not within the measure of my wrath.

I will make a Star-chamber matter of it.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

Ibid.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

Sc. 4.

Act v. Sc. 4.

Ibid.

Ibid.

The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.

All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may.

Ibid.

1 As clear and as manifest as the nose in a man's face. - BURTON: Anat

omy of Melancholy, part iii. sect. 3, memb. 4, subsect. 1.

2 Custom is almost second nature. — PLUTARCH: Preservation of Health.

It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love.

The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1

Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is good gifts.

Mine host of the Garter.

Ibid.

Ibid.

I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here.

Ibid.

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.1

Ibid.

O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield?

Sc. 3.

"Convey," the wise it call. "Steal!" foh! a fico for the phrase!

Ibid.

Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores.

Ibid.

Tester I'll have in pouch, when thou shalt lack,

Base Phrygian Turk!

Ibid.

Thou art the Mars of malcontents.

Ibid.

Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the

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Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.

Ibid.

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Like a fair house, built on another man's ground.
We have some salt of our youth in us.

Ibid.

Sc 3

1 Familiarity breeds contempt. - PUBLIUS SYRUS: Maxim 640

I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.1

The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 2.

What a taking was he in when your husband asked

who was in the basket!

Sc. 3.

O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults

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Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

Sc. 2.

In his old lunes again.

So curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever.

Ibid.

This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. There is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.

Thyself and thy belongings

Are not thine own so proper as to waste

Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.

Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,

Act v. Sc. 1.

Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues

Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike

As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd
But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines
Herself the glory of a creditor,
Both thanks and use.

Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 1

1 What the dickens! THOMAS HEYWOOD: Edward IV. act iii. sc. 1. 2 As ill luck would have it. - CERVANTES: Don Quixote, pt. i. bk. i. ch. ii

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