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When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation : we do pray


mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.

The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1. A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel !

Ibid. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 1


'T is not in the bond.









Speak me fair in death.
An upright judge, a learned judge !
A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
You take my house when you do take the prop
That doth sustain house ; you



you do take the means whereby I live.
He is well paid that is well satisfied.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank !
Here we will sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angei sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins.
Such harmony is in immortal souls ;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

Act v. Sc. 1.


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The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus.
Let no such man be trusted.

The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. &
How far that little candle throws his beams !
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection !

This night methinks is but the daylight sick. Ibid.
These blessed candles of the night.

Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.

We will answer all things faithfully.

Ibid. Fortune reigns in gifts of the world.

As You Like It, Act 1. Sc. 2. The little foolery that wise men have makes a great show.


Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.






Your heart's desires be with you !
One out of suits with fortune.
Hereafter, in a better world than this,
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
My pride fell with my fortunés.
Cel. Not a word ?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.
O, how full of briers is this working-day world !
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have.

Sc. 3.






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
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.
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,

will sweat but for promotion. 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

Sc. 3.



Where none



Sc. 4.

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my


shins against it.
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me.

Sc. 5.

I met a fool i' the forest,

A motley fool.

Sc. 7

And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms.

As You Like It, Act å. 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.

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.

Ibid. Motley 's the only wear.

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.

1bid. True is it that we have seen better days.


i The same in the Taming of the Shrew, act iv. sc. 1; in Othello, nct 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. chmp. 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. Ibid.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
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 nurses 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,

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,

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

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, -— MostalgneOf the most Excellent Men.



Sans teeth,


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