SOLDIER'S DEATH.

Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
He only liv'd but till he was a man ;

The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd,
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.

They say he parted well, and paid his score;
So God be with him,

I

pray you, bear me hence

From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.

So underneath the belly of their steeds,

That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,

M. v. 7.

M. v. 7

K. J. v. 5.

The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. H. VI. PT. III. ii. 3.
Why then, God's soldier be he!

Had I as many sons as I have hairs,

I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so his knell is knoll'd.

SOLDIER, A PASSIVE INSTRUMENT.

To be tender-minded

Does not become a sword:-Thy great employment

M. v. 7.

Will not bear question.

K. L. v. 3.

P. P. i. 1.

Nor the division of a battle knows

This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,

I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,

And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.

T.G. v. 4.

SOMNAMBULISM.

A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and to do the effects of watching. M. v. 1.

SONG.

I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs: More, I pr'ythee, more. A. Y. ii. 5.

My mother had a maid call'd Barbara ;

She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd mad,
And did forsake her: she had a song of Willow,
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it.

O. iv. 3.

She bids you
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east. H. IV. PT. I. iii. 1.
'Fore heaven, an excellent song.

Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night;
Methought it did relieve my passion much;
More than light airs and recollected terms,
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.

It hath been sung at festivals,

On ember eves and holy ales;

And lords and ladies of their lives

Have read it for restoratives.

O. ii. 3.

O. ii. 3.

T. N. ii. 4.

P. P. i. chorus.

Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain;

The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,

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.

SONG, POPUlar.

T. N. ii. 4.

No hearing, no feeling, but my Sir's song; and admiring the nothing of it.

W. T. iv. 3.

There's scarce a maid westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you. W. T. iv. 3,

SONG-BOOK.

I had rather than forty shillings, I had my book of songs and sonnets here.

SONGSTERS, NOCTURNAL.

Shall we rouse the night owl in a catch?

M. W. i. 1.

T. N. ii. 3.

SORROW (See GRIEF, LAMENTATION, TEARS).
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.

R. III. i. 4.

Go, count thy way with sighs;—I mine with groans.

When sorrows come, they come, not single spies,
But in battalions.

One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir,
That may succeed as his inheritor.

R. II. v. 1

H. iv. 5.

P. P. i. 4.

'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots
Out of the mind.

A. C. iv. 2.

A cypress, not a bosom,

T. N. iii. 1.

Hides my poor heart.

O, if you teach me to believe this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die.
And let belief and life encounter so,
As doth the fury of two desperate men,
Which, in their very meeting, fall, and die.
How ill all's here about my heart!

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up; here I and sorrow sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

Cure her of that:

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?
Impatience waiteth on true sorrow.

K. J. iii. 1.
H. v. 2.

K. J. iii. 1.

M. v. 3.

H.VI. PT. III. iii. 3.

For gnarled sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.

R. II. i. 3.

R. II. i. 2.

SORROW,-continued.
All strange and terrible events are welcome,
But comforts we despise; our size of sorrrow,
Proportion'd to our cause must be as great,
As that which makes it.

A. C. iv. 13.

W. T. iii. 3.

This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in.

A. W. i. 3.

Down, thou climbing sorrow, thy element's below.

But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.
This sorrow's heavenly,

It strikes where it doth love.

And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek; it seem'd, she was a queen
Over her passion; who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.

K. L. ii. 4.

T. C. i. 1.

0. v. 2.

K. L. iv. 3.

Her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

PARENTAL.

My grief

Stretches itself beyond the hour of death;

A. W. iv. 3.

The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape,
In forms imaginary, the unguided days,

And rotten times that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.

H. IV. PT. H. iv. 5.

These miseries are more than may be borne !

To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal,

But sorrow flouted at his double death. Tit. And. iii. 1.

UNCALLED FOR.

The tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.

A. C. i. 2.

SOUL.

Though that be sick it dies not.

H. IV. PT. II. ii. 2.

SOUL,-continued.

Every subject's duty is the king's, but every subject's soul is his own.

H. V. iv. 1.
Mount, mount, my soul, thy seat is up on high. R. II. v.5.
Were souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
And with our sprightly sport, make the ghosts gaze.

Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burden of a guilty soul.
Swift-wing'd souls.

SOUR LOOKS.

A. C. iv. 12.

R. II. i. 3.

R. III. ii. 3.

How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am heart-burned an hour after.

SPARE FIGURE.

He was the very genius of famine.

M. A. ii. 1.

H. IV. PT. II. iii. 4.

You might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court; and now has he land and bees.

SPEECH (See also RECITATION).

H. IV. PT. II. iii. 2.

Before we proceed any further, hear me speak.
His speech sticks in my heart.

I would be loath to cast away my speech;
that it is excellently well penn'd, I have taken
to con it.

'Tis well said again;

And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well:
And yet words are no deeds.

Spoke like a spriteful noble gentleman.

DISORDERED.

And when he speaks

C. i. 1.

A. C. i. 5.

for, besides great pains T. N. i. 5.

H.VIII. iii. 2.

K. J. iv. 2.

'Tis like a chime a mending; with terms unsquar'd,
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropt,
Would seem hyperboles.

SPEED.

T.C. i. 3.

K. J. v.7.

R. II. ii. 3.

O, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleen of speed to see your majesty. Bloody with spurring; fiery red with haste. SPIRITS (See also APPARITIONS, GHOSTS, ELVES, FAIRIES). Why, now I see there's mettle in thee; and even, from this instant, do build on thee a better opinion than ever before. 0. iv. 2.