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paramoured the Turk: False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; Hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to women : Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
KING LEAR, A. 3, s. 4.
A WARM HEART IN THE HOST
DOUBLES THE VALUE OF THE FEAST.
My royal lord, You do not give the cheer; the feast is cold, That is not often vouch’d, while 'tis a making, 'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at
home; From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony, Meeting were bare without it.
MACBETH, A. 3, s. 4.
BANE OF CIVIL DISSENSIONS. LEST Rome herself be bane unto herself ; And she, whom mighty kingdoms court’sy to, Like a forlorn and desperate cast-away, Do shameful execution on herself. But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, Grave witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words, Speak, Rome's dear friend; as erst our ancestor, When with his solemn tongue he did discourse, To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear,
The story of that baleful burning night,
TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 5, s. 3.
BANISHMENT CONTENTED. YOUR will be done; this must my comfort be,That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me; And those his golden beams, to you here lent, Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.
K. RICHARD II., A. 1, s. 3.
BANISHMENT NOT CONTENT. A HEAVY sentence, my most sovereign liege, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: A dearer merit, not so deep a maim As to be cast forth in the common air, Have I deserved at your highness' hand. The language I have learn’d these forty years, My native English, now I must forego : And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol, or a harp; Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up,
Or, being open, put into his hands
death, Which robs my tongue from breathing native
breath? Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
K. RICHARD 11., a. 1, s. 3.
BATTERY OF AN ELDERLY SINNER.
Thou art violently carried away from grace: there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man: a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swoln parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years! Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it ? wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villainy > wherein villainous, but in all things ? wherein worthy, but in nothing ?
K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 2, s. 4.
BEAR AND FORBEAR. You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair : Your words have took such pains, as if they
labour'd To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling Upon the head of valour; which, indeed, Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were newly born: He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe; and make his
wrongs His outsides; wear them like his raiment, care
TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 3, s. 5.
BEAUTY AND GOODNESS IN
SORROW. She took them, read them in my presence; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down Her delicate cheek: it seem'd, she was a queen Over her passion; who, most rebel-like, Sought to be the king o'er her. Patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have
seen Sunshine and rain at once : her smiles and tears Were like a better day: Those happy smiles, That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know What guests were in her eyes; which parted
thence, As pearls from diamonds dropp'd.—In brief,
sorrow Would be a rarity most belov’d, if all Could so become it. Once, or twice, she heav'd the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; Cried, Sisters! sisters!--Shame of ladies! sisters! Kent! father! sisters! What i'the storm? i'the
It is the stars,
KING LEAR, A. 4, s. 3.
BEAUTY AND VIRTUE'S ANGER
WITH UGLINESS AND SIN. What, do you tremble ? are you all afraid ? Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou had'st but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us
not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,