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For parting us,-0, and is all forgot?
7-iii. 2. 86
I have lived
87 What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason ! How infinite in faculties ! in form, and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!
88 See, what a grace was seated on this brow: Hyperion's" curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye
like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man. 36-iii. 4.
89 I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man, Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: My free drift
27-i. 1. 90
How this grace
27-i. 1. 92
Thou art like the harpy, Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face, Seize with an eagle's talons.b
93 There be players, that I have seen play,—and heard others praise, and that highly,--not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
94 Hath he so long held out with me untired, And stops he now for breath?
95 What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish myself
? My design does not stop at any particular character. ? Anciently they wrote upon waxen tables with an iron style. a Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be. b Thou resemblest in thy conduct the harpy, which allures with the face of an angel, that it may seize with the talons of an eagle.
against such a good time, when I might have shewn myself honourable? how unluckily it happened, that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope, his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind: and tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. 27-iii. 2.
Now do I play the touch, To try if thou be current gold, indeed. 24-iv. 2.
97 To build his fortune, I will strain a little, For 'tis a bond in men.
9-iv. l. 99
Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder?
100 I am cabin'd, cribb’d, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.
15iii. 4. .
101 Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself; and what remains is bestial.
102 O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason!
c Pass over us.
I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you.
36-iii. 4. 104
Common mother, thou,
105 I have upon a high and pleasant hill Feign'd Fortune to be throned. The base o' the
mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states:d amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd, One do I personate, Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals.
All those, which were his fellows but of late
d To advance their conditions of life. Whisperings of officious servility,
All the world.'s a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits, and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover; Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eye-brow: Then, a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth: And then the justice; In fair round belly, with good capon lined, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances, And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon; With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound: Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
So tedious is this day, As is the night before some festival
h Trite, common.