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Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sun-burned; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh-ho!
for a husband.
But hear me.
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ;-
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they shew Something too liberal.
O monstrous treachery! Can this be so;
That in alliance, amity, and oaths,
There should be found such false dissembling guile ?
If that thy bent of love be honourable,
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay,
And follow thee my lord throughout the world.
His eye begets occasion for his wit:
You are most bound to the king;
Who lets go by no vantages, that may
The world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
It is certain, I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted. 6-i. 1.
Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score again? Go to, i' faith: an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh away Sundays. 6-i. 1.
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, (So may it come!) thy master, whom thou lov'st, Shall find thee full of labours.
Bring forth men children only!
For thy undaunted mettle should compose
Nothing but males.
I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs
go, that the devil drives.
I have been, madam,
a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry, that I may repent. 11-i. 3.
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart That thought her like her seeming: it had been
To have mistrusted her.
O curse of marriage,
That we can call these delicate creatures ours,
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon,
I would, my horse had the speed of your tongue; and so good a continuer.
But who dare tell her so?
She 'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Is your blood So madly hot, that no discourse of reason, Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, Can qualify the same?
He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking them, he is stronger than Hercules. Drunkenness is his best virtue.
Here's that, which is too weak to be a sinner.
He stalks up and down like a peacock; bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say there were wit in this head; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. 26-iii. 3.
I am not covetous for gold; But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Whether it like me, or no, I am a courtier. See'st thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it, the measure of the court? reflect I not on thy baseness, court-contempt? I am courtier cap-a-pè.
You are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. 11—ii. 4.
Am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John.
You seem to me as Dian in her orb;
6-iv. 1. Why, we have galls: and, though we have some grace, Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know, Their wives have sense like them: they see, and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, The ills we do, their ills instruct us to.
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
She hath received your letter; for the which she thanks you a thousand times: and she gives you to notify, that her husband will be absent from his house between ten and eleven. 3-ii. 2.
He was such another, and now he is become a man; he swore he would never marry; and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his meat without grudging. 6-iii. 4.
They pass'd by me,
As misers do by beggars; neither gave to me
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
That face of his I do remember well;
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.
If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb_ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument, than the bell rings, and the widow weeps.
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre;
I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed.
Well didst thou, to suppress thy voice,
For had the passions of thy heart burst out,