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Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
These eyes, that now are dimmed with death's black veil,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
To search the secret treasons of the world:
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow?
Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,
K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 5, s. 2.
ALAS, poor Yorick!-I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now how abhorred in my imagination it is!
my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols ? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.
HAMLET, A. 5, s. 1.
DEATH'S COLDNESS AND HOLINESS.
NAY, sure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, e'en at turning o'the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, sir John? quoth I: what, man! be of good cheer. So 'a cried outGod, God, God! three or four times: now I, to comfort him, bid him, 'a should not think of God; I hoped, there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet: So, 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.
K. HENRY V., a. 2, s. 3.
INDICATIONS OF JEALOUSY.
Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot ? Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight ? and all eyes blind
With the pin and web, but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
If this be nothing.
WINTER'S TALE, A. 1, s. 2.
COME, I have learn'd, that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
K. RICHARD III., A. 4, s. 3.
DECLINE OF A NATION.
WOE the while! our fathers' minds are dead, And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish.
JULIUS CESAR, A. 1, s. 3.
DEMORALIZATION OF WAR.
HOLD, Clifford; do not honour him so much,
And ten to one is no impeach of valour.
K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 1, s. 4.
DEPRIVATION OFT BRINGS CON-
THERE's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, s. 2.
Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.
A thing devised by the enemy.
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe;
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell;
What shall I say more than I have infer'd?
If we be conquered, let men conquer us,
And not these bastard Bretagnes, whom our fathers
Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,
And, on record, left them the heirs of shame.
Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives? Ravish our daughters ?-Hark, I hear their drum.
Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;