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The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on.
King Henry VI. Part II. Act ü. Sc. 2.
Didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success ? And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ? Ibida
Warwick, peace, Proud setter up and puller down of kings! Act iii. Sc. 3. A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. Act iv. Sc. 8. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
Act v. Sc. 6.
Now is the winter of our discontent
now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1. To leave this keen encounter of our wits.
Sc. 2. Was ever woman in this humour wooed ? Was ever woman in this humour won ?
Framed in the prodigality of nature.
The world is grown so bad,
Sc. 4. Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears ! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes ! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon, Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea : Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes Where
eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems. A parlous boy.
Act ijSc. 4.
1 For fools rush in where angels fear to tread. – Pope: Essay on Critisism, part iïi. line 66.
3 “Stolen forth" in White and Knight.
So wise so young, they say, do never live long.
Kiny Richard III. Act iü. Sc. 1.
Act iv. Sc. 2.
Phenix, act i. sc. 1.
(altered), act id. sc. 3.
The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.
King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3. A thing devised by the enemy.
Ibid. I have set my
upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die : I think there be six Richmonds in the field.
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !
Ibid. Order gave each thing view.
King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.
No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger.
Ibid. Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him.
Ibid. Heat not a furnace for your
foe so hot That it do singe yourself.
Ibid. 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through.
Sc. 2. The mirror of all courtesy.
Act ü. Sc. 1. This bold bad man.2
Sc. 2. 'T is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Sc. 3. Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing.
'T is well said again, And 't is a kind of good deed to say well : And yet words are no deeds.
1 A weak invention of the enemy. – CIBBER : Richard III. (altered) act v. sc. 3.
3 See Spenser, page 27.
Act iii. Sc. 1.
And then to breakfast with
many summers in a sea of glory,
and fears than wars or women have :
peace above all earthly dignities,
A load would sink a navy.
And sleep in dull cold marble.