SLANDER,-continued.

That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold and no man, that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame,
'Tis slander;

C. E. ii. 1.

Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting wind, and doth belie

All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.

Many worthy and chaste dames even thus (all guiltless)

meet reproach.

Calumny will sear virtue itself.

I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,

Some busy and insinuating rogue,

Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devis'd this slander.

For he

The sacred honour of himself, his queen's,

Cym. iii. 4.

O. iv. 1.

W.T. ii. 1.

His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander,
Whose sting is sharper than the sword's.
Abus'd by some most villanous knave!
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow :
O, heaven, that such companions thoud'st unfold;
And put in every honest hand a whip

To lash the rascal naked through the world!

So thou be good, slander doth but approve.

0. iv. 2.

W.T. ii. 3.

0. iv. 2. Poems.

If thou dost slander her, and torture me,
Never pray more: abandon all remorse;
On horror's head horrors accumulate:

Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz’d,
For nothing canst thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint.

SLANDERERS.

That dare as well answer a man, indeed,
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue :
Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops?
Smiling pick thanks and base newsmongers.

SLAVE AT LARGE.

O. iii. 3.

T.C. i. 3.

M.A. v. 1.

H. IV. PT. 1. iii. 2.

I am trusted with a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog.
M. A. i. 3.

SLAVISHNESS.

Milk-liver'd man!

That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs,
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st
Fools do those villains pity, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief.

How this lord's follow'd!

With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cry'st,
Alack! Why does he so?

How

pomp

O, behold,

is follow'd.

Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool.

To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes
With one that ties his points?

K. L. iv. 2.
T.A. i. 1.

To say ay, and no, to every thing I said! Ay and no too, was no good divinity.

SLEEP.

K. L. iv. 6.

The innocent sleep:

Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,

Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.

Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.

M. ii. 2.

T. ii. 1.

Cym. iii. 6.

How many thousands of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,

That thou no more wilt weigh mine eye-lids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies, to thy slumber;
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell?

SLEEP,-continued.

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast,
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains,
In cradle of the rude imperious surge;

And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude:
And, in the calmest, and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And Nature must obey necessity.

H. IV. PT. II. iii. 1.

J.C. iv. 3.

R. J. ii. 3.

Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep. M. N. iii. 2.
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
To bed, to bed: Sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants empty of all thought.

Fast asleep? It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber;
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.

T. C. iv. 2.

J.C. ii. 1.

M. N. iii. 2.

Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me awhile from mine own company.
So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow,
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe.
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her.

SLOTH.

M. N. iii. 2.
Cym. ii. 2.

What pleasure, Sir, find we in life, to lock it from action and adventure?

Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss.

SMELL.

Cym. iv. 4.

H. IV. PT. I. iv. 3.

Dead or alive?

T. ii. 2.

What have we here? a man or a fish? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very antient and fish-like smell.

Master Brook, there was the rankest compound of villanous smells, that ever offended nostril. M. W. iii. 5.

SMILES.

When time shall serve, there shall be smiles.
Some, that smile, have in their hearts, I fear,
Millions of mischief.

AND TEARS.

Patience and sorrow strove

H. V. ii. 1.

J.C. iv. 1.

Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
Were like a better day: Those happy smiles,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief, sorrow
Would be a rarity most belov❜d, if all

Though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head, and brings his destiny with him, his horns; he comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the slander of his wite. A. Y. iv. 1.

A try'd and valiant soldier.

Soldiers should brook as little wrongs, as gods.

Consider this: He hath been bred i' the wars
Since he could draw a sword, and is ill-school'd
In boulted language; meal and bran together
He throws without distinction.

Cym. iv. 2.

J.C. iv. 1.

T. A. iii. 5.

He that is truly dedicate to war, hath no self-love.

Consider further,

That when he speaks not like a citizen,
You find him like a soldier: Do not take
His rougher accents for malicious sounds,
But, as I say, such as become a soldier.

C. iii. 3.

H. VI. PT. II. v. 2.

C. iii. 3.

SOLDIER,-continued.
The armipotent soldier.

'Tis the soldiers' life

To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.

'Tis much he dares;

And, to the dauntless temper of his mind,

He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
To act in safety.

A braver soldier never couched lance,

A. W. iv. 3

O. ii. 3

M. iii. 1.

A gentler heart did never sway in court. H. VI. PT. 1. iii. 2.

I am a soldier; and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier and afraid?
Trailest thou the puissant pike?

H.VI. PT. I. v. 3.

M. v. 1. H.V. iv. 1.

Go to the wars, would you? where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough at the end to buy him a wooden one? P. P. iv. 6.

Faith, Sir, he has led the drum before the English trage
dians, to belie him I will not, and more of his soldiership
I know not; except, in that country, he had the honour to
be the officer at a place there called Mile End, to instruct
for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour
I can, but of this I am not certain.
A. W. iv. 3.

All furnish'd, all in arms,
All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind;
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd;
Glittering in golden coats, like images;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.

H. IV. PT. I. iv. 1.

Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll find a pit as well as better.

IN LOVE.

H. IV. PT. I. iv. 2.

I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love:
But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires.

May that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love.

M. A. i. 1.

T.C. i. 3.