More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.

Henry IV. P. 1, A. 5, S. 1.

If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries :-
Oh, gentlemen, fee, fee! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!

Richard III. A. 1, S. 2:

The time will come,

That I fhall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To ingrofs up glorious deeds on my behalf.

Henry IV. P. 1, A. 3, S. 2.

How oft the fight of means to do ill deeds,
Makes deeds ill done? Hadeft not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted, and fign'd, to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind.

King John, A. 4, S. 2.

This is the man fhould do the bloody deed;
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his

Does fhew the mood of a much-troubled breast.

King John, A. 4, S. 2.

Good friends, fweet friends, let me not stir you up
To fuch a fudden flood of mutiny.

They, that have done this deed, are honourable;
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not,
That made them do it.

Julius Cæfar, A. 3, S. 2.

How far that little candle throws his beams!
So fhines a good deed in a naughty world.

Merchant of Venice, A. 5, S. 1.

Who fhall believe,

But you misuse the reverence of your place;
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,

4

As

As a falfe favourite doth his prince's name,

In deeds difhonourable? Henry IV. P. 2, A. 4, S. 2.
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds;
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.

I.

Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. г.

This would't thou fay,-Your fon did thus and thus ;
Your brother, thus; fo fought the noble Douglas;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds:
But in the end, to ftop mine ear indeed,
Thou haft a figh to blow away this praise,
Ending with-brother, fon, and all are dead.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. 1, S. 1.

If thou doft flander her, and torture me,
Never pray more abandon all remorse;
On horror's head, horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd ;
For nothing canft thou to damnation add,

Greater than that.

S.3.

Othello, A. 3, S. 3.

I pray you, in your letters, When you fhall these unlucky deeds relate,

Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,

Nor fet down aught in malice. Othello, A. 5, S. 2.

DE E R.

For his weeping in the needless stream;

Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament

As worldlings do, giving the fum of more
To that which had too much.

I

As you like it, A. 2, S. 1.

DESIGN.

He hath discover'd my design, and I

G4

He hath difcover'd my defign, and I

Remain

Remain a pinch'd thing.] Alluding to the fuperftition

of

Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick
For them to play at will. Winter's Tale, A. 2, S. 1.

DESIRE S.

Thy defires

Are wolfifh, bloody, ftarv'd and ravenous.

Merchant of Venice, A, 4, S. 1.

But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging foft and delicate defires,
All prompting me how fair young Hero is.

Much ado about nothing, A. 1, S. I.

DESPAIR,

You common cry of curs!

Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into defpair! Have the power still
To banifh your defenders. Coriolanus, A. 3, S. 3.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where most it promises; and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldeft, and despair most fits.

All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. 1.

O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
Oh, beat away the bufy meddling fiend,
And from his bofom purge this black despair.

Henry VI. P. 2, A. 3, S. 3.

of the vulgar, concerning thofe that were enchanted, and faftened to the fpot, by charms fuperior to their own.

WARBURTON.

The sense, I think, is, he hath now difcovered my defign, and I am treated as a mere baby, a thing pinched out of clouts, a puppet for them to move and actuate as they pleafe. Dr. Warburton's fuppofed allufion to enchantments is quite befide the purpose. REVISAL

"Pinch'd thing" fhould certainly be pinchin, i. e. one who is to be played upon. The word is ufed by Chaucer. Pincer, Fr. to jeer, to banter.

A. B.

DETRAC

DETRACTION.

Happy are they that hear their detractions, and

can put them to mending.

Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.

DEV 1 L.

-Divinity of hell!

When devils will their blackeft fins put on,

They do fuggeft at first with heavenly fhews,

As I do now.

Whatfoever cunning fiend it was,

Othello, A. 2, S. 3.

That wrought upon thee fo prepofterously,
He hath got the voice in hell for excellence :
And other devils, that fuggeft by treasons,
Do botch and bungle up damnation

With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd
From gliftering femblances of piety.

Henry V. A. 2, S. 2.

I press me none but good houfholders, yeomen's fons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, fuch as had been afk'd twice on the bans: fuch a commodity of warm flaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; fuch as fear the report of a caliver, worse than a ftruck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck.

Henry IV. P. 1, A. 4, S. 2.
Something may be done, that we will not:
And fometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Prefuming on their changeful potency.

Troilus and Creffida, A. 4, S. 4.
Worthy duke,

You bid me feek redemption of the devil :

Hear me yourself. Measure for Measure, A. 5, S, t.

Let the devil

Be fometimes honour'd for his burning throne.

Meafure for Measure, A. 5, S. 1.

The

The devil can cite fcripture for his purpose.

Merchant of Venice, A. 1, S. 3.

Come, fwear it, damn thyself;

Left, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to feize thee: therefore be double damn'd, Swear-thou art honeft.

Othello, A. 4, S. 2.

Whip me, ye devils,

From the poffeffion of this heavenly fight!
Blow me about in winds! roaft me in fulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!-
O Desdemona! Defdemona! dead?

Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
That filverly doth progrefs on thy cheeks:
This fhower, blown up by tempeft of the foul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Than had I feen the vaulty top of heaven
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.

King John, A. 5, S. 2.
As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen,
Drop on you both!

Tempest, A. 1,

S. 2.

O, that this too too folid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!

Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd

His canon 'gainst felf-flaughter! Hamlet, A. 1, S. 2.
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, fo fanded, and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd, like Theffalian bulls:
Slow in purfuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each.

Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 4, S. I.

DIS