man: you are rather point-device* in your accoutrements; as loving yourself, than seeming the lover of any other.

REAL PASSION DISSEMBLED. Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 'Tis but a peevish † boy :-yet he talks well;But what care I for words? yet words do well, When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth:--not very pretty:But, sure, he's proud ; and yet his pride becomes him: He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall: His leg is but so so; and yet ’tis well: There was a pretty redness in his lip; A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek:'twas just the difference Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him: but, for my part, I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him : For what had he to do to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black, and my hair black; And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: I marvel, why I answer'd not again: But that's all one; omittance is no quittance.

ACT IV,

THE VARIETIES OF MELANCHOLY, I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice*; nor the lover's, which is all these.

MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OF BOTH SEXES.

Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando : men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep.

CUPID'S PARENTAGE. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus, that was begot of thought t, conceived of spleen, and born of madness; that blind rascally boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be judge, how deep I am in love.

OLIVER'S DESCRIPTION OF HIS DANGER WHEN

SLEEPING. Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself, Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd The opening of his mouth; but suddenly Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush: under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast,
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.

ACT V.

LOVE,

Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.
It is to be all made of sighs and tears ;-
It is to be all made of faith and service ;
It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all observance.

Comedy of Errors.

ACT II.

,

MAN'S PRE-EMINENCE. There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye, But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, Are their males' subject, and at their controls : Men, more divine, the masters of all these, Lords of the wide world, and wild watery seas, Indued with intellectual sense and souls, Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, Are masters to their females, and their lords : Then let your will attend on their accords.

PATIENCE EASIER TAUGHT THAN PRACTISED.

Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she pause;. They can be meek, that have no other cause. A wretched soul, bruis’d with adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, As much, or more, we should ourselves complain.

DEFAMATION.

I see, the jewel, best enamelled, Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still, That others touch, yet often touching will Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name, But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.

JEALOUSY.

VOW

Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown;
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects,
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand,
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
Unless I spake, look’d, touch’d, or carv'd to thee.

SLANDER.

For slander lives upon succession ;
For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession.

ACT V.

A WOMAN'S JEALOUSY MORE DEADLY THAN POISON.
The venom clamours of a jealous woman
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing:

And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou say’st, his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ;
And what's a fever but a fit of madness?
Thou say’st, his sports were binder'd by thy brawls ;
Sweet recreation barr’d, what doth ensue,
But moody and dull melancholy,
(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair ;)
And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life!

DESCRIPTION OF A BEGGARLY FORTUNE-TELLER.

A hungry lean-fac'd villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller ;
A needy, hollow-ey’d, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man: this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere outfacing me,
Cries out, I was possess’d.

OLD AGE.

Though now this grained * face of mine be hid
In sap.consuming winter's drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up;
Yet hath my night of life some memory,
My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left,
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear:
All these old witnesses (I cannot err,)
Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus.

* Furrowed, lined.