Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.

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

Ibid.

As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much."

Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens.

And He that doth the ravens feed,

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age!

For in my youth I never did apply

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,
Frosty, but kindly.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Sc. 3.

Ibid.

Ibid.

O, good old man, how well in thee appears
The constant service of the antique world,
When service sweat for duty, not for meed!
Thou art not for the fashion of these times,
Where none will sweat but for promotion.

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,
In good set terms.

As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

And then he drew a dial from his poke,

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, "It is ten o'clock:

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;
And I did laugh sans intermission

An hour by his dial.

Motley's the only wear.

Ibid.

Ibid.

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

After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents

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.
All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.1
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard;
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

1 The world's a theatre, the earth a stage,
Which God and Nature do with actors fill.

Ibid.

Ibid.

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!
Thou art not so unkind

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.

I'll

Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. 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.

Ibid

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad.

I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.

I'll warrant him heart-whole.

As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Ibid.

Ibid.

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

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.

2

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.

Sc. 4.

1 Too much of a good thing. - CERVANTES: Don Quixote, part i. book i. chap. vi.

2 "Cud" in Dyce and Staunton.