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It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love.
The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. I 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.
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."
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 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.
Ibid. Unless experience be a jewel.
Ibid. Like a fair house, built on another man's ground. Ibid. We have some salt of our youth in us.
1 Familiarity breeds contempt. — PUBLIUS Syrus : Maxim 640
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 !
Sc. 3. 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. 3. As good luck would have it.2
Ibid. The rankest compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril.
Ibid. man of my kidney.
Ibid. 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 1. 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. ? As ill luck would have it. — CERVANTES: Don Quixote, pt. i bk. i. ch. i
He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 2 Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home.
Sc. 3.) 1 hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted.
Sc. 4.1 A man whose blood Is very snow-broth; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense.
Ibid.1 He arrests him on it; And follows close the rigour of the statute, To make him an example.
Ibid.1 Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt.
Ibid.1 The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try.
Act ii. Sc. 1. Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
Ibid. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there.
Ibid Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it ?
Sc. 2. No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does.
Ibid Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy. How would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are ?
1 Act i. Sc. 5, in White, Singer, and Knight.
The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.
Measure for Measure. Act ü. Sc. 2.
0, it is excellent To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
Ibid. But man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep.
Ibid. That in the captain 's but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Ibid. Our compell’d sins Stand more for number than for accompt.
Sc. 4. The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope.
Act iä, Sc. 1. A breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences.
Ibid. Palsied eld.
Ibid. The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Ibid. The cunning livery of hell.
Ibid. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world.
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1. The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
Ibid. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
Ibia, There, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana.?
Ibid. 0, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side!
That so sweetly were forsworn;
Lights that do mislead the morn:
Act iv. Sc. 1. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. .
Sc. 2. We would, and we would not.
Sc. 4 A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion.
Act v. Sc. 1. Truth is truth To the end of reckoning.
Ibid. My business in this state Made me a looker on here in Vienna.
1 See Spenser, page 29. 2 " Mariana in the moated grange," – the motto used by Tennyson for
• Mariana." 3 This song occurs in Act v. Sc. 2 of Beaumont and Fletcher's Bloody Brother, with the following additional stanza:
Hide, O, hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
Are of those that April wears !