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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 1564–1616.

. (From the text of Clark and Wright.) I would fain die a dry death. The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

Ibid. What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time ?

Sc. 2. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind.

Ibid.

Like one
Who having into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie.

Ibid.

My library Was dukedom large enough.

Ibid. Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

Ibid. From the still-vexed Bermoothes.

Ibid. I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.

Ibid. Fill all thy bones with aches.

Ibid.
Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands :
Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd
The wild waves whist.

Ibid.
Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes :

Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.

Ibid.

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.

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

Act ü. Sc. 1. A very ancient and fish-like smell.

Sc. 2. Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

Ibid. Fer. Here's my hand. Mir. And mine, with my heart in 't.

Act ii. Sc. 1. He that dies pays all debts.

Sc. 2. A kind Of excellent dumb discourse.

Sc. 3. Deeper than e'er plummet sounded.

Ibid. 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.

Act iv. Sc. 1. With foreheads villanous low.

Ibid. Deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book.

Act v. Sc. 1. Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie.

Ibid. Merrily, merrily shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

Ibica

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.

Sc. 2. 0, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day!

Sc. 3. And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. ·Act ii. Sc. 1. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face,or a weathercock on a steeple.

Ibid. She is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.

Sc. 4. He makes sweet music with th' enameli'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. Act . Sc. 1. Except I be by Sylvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale. A man I am, cross’d with adversity.

Act iv. Sc. 1. Is she not passing fair ? How use doth breed a habit in a man!? Act v. Sc. 4.

O heaven! were man But constant, he were perfect.

Ibid. Come not within the measure of my wrath.

Ibid. I will make a Star-chamber matter of it.

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.

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Ibid.

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ibid.

1 As clear and as manifest as the nose in a man's face. ~ Burton: Anatomy of Melancholy, part iii. sect. 3, memb. 4, subsect. 1.

2 Custom is almost second nature. – PLUTARCH: Preserration of Health. Sc 3

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.

Ibid. Mine host of the Garter.

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

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.

Ibid.

Ibid.

O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield ?

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Ibid.

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

Ibid. Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. 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 king's English.

Sc. 4. We burn daylight.

Act ii. Sc. 1. There's the humour of it.

Ibid. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. Ibid. Why, then the world's mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.

Sc. 2. This is the short and the long of it. Unless experience be a jewel. Like a fair house, built on another man's ground. Ibid. We have some salt of our youth in us.

Ibid.

Ibid.

- Familiarity breeds contempt. — PUBLIUS Syrus : Maxim 640

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Ibid.

I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.?

The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 2. What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! 0, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! Sc. 4. Happy man be his dole !

Ibid. I have a kind of alacrity in sinking.

Sc. 5. As good luck would have it.”

Ibid. The rankest compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril.

Ibid. A man of my kidney. Think of that, Master Brook.

Ibid. Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole.

Act iv. Sc. 1. In his old lunes again.

Sc. 2. 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.

Act v. Sc. 1. 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, 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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