Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging

them

With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Can'st thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 3, s. 1.

How now, Thersites ? what, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus ? he beats me, and I rail at him: O worthy satisfaction! 'would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me: 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of gods; and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy Caduceus; if ye take not that little lessthan-little wit from them that they have! which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons, and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or, rather, the bone-ache!

for that, methinks, is the curse dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers; and devil, envy, say Amen.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, s. 3.

PRECIOUSNESS OF CHARACTER.

GOOD name, in man,

and woman,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls:

Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;

'Twas mine, tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he, that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

OTHELLO, A. 3, s. 3.

PREJUDICES OF THE MULTITUDE AGAINST FAVOURITES.

SIRS, stand apart; the king shall know your
mind.-
[Speaking to those within.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,

They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died;
They say, in him they fear your highness' death;
And mere instinct of love, and loyalty,-
Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,-
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,

That, if your highness should intend to sleep, And charge-that no man should disturb your rest,

In pain of your dislike, or pain of death;
Yet notwithstanding such a straight edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty,
It were but necessary you were wak'd;
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal :
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'r you will, or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting,
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life.

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 3, s. 2.

PREMATURE MARRIAGE.

YOUNGER than she are happy mothers made.
And too soon marr'd are those so early made.

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 1, s. 2.

PRESAGES OF DEATH, AND DEPARTURE OF THE SOUL.

P. HENRY. It is too late; the life of all his blood

Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling

house,)

Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.

Let him be brought into the orchard here.—
Doth he still rage?

O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes,

In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds

With many legions of strange fantasies;

Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,

Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death should sing.

I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.

K. JOHN. Ay, marry, now my soul hath

elbow-room;

It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Do I shrink up.

P. HEN.

How fares your majesty ? K. JOHN. Poison'd,-ill fare;-dead, forsook, cast off:

And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north

To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, And comfort me with cold:-I do not ask you much,

I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,
And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

P. HEN. O, that there were some virtue in my tears,

That might relieve you!

K. JOHN.

The salt in them is hot.

Within me is a hell; and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize
On unreprievable condemned blood.
BASTARD. O, I am scalded with
motion,

my

And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
K. JOHN.

mine eye:

violent

cousin, thou art come to set

The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail,

Are turned to one thread, one little hair:
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be utter'd;
And then all this thou seest is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty.

BAST. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward; Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer

him:

For, in a night, the best part of my power,
As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,

Devour'd by the unexpected flood.

[The KING dies.

SALISBURY. You breathe these dead news in

as dead an ear.

My liege! my lord!-But now a king,-now thus.

P. HEN. Even so must I run on, and even so stop.

Y