That if you now beheld them, your affections 1
Would become tender. Tempest, A. 5, S. 1.

All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you !

Tempest, A. 1, S. 2.
The charm diffolves apace;
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason.

Tempest, A.
My high charms work,
And these, mine enemies, are all knit up
In their distractions.

Tempest, A. 3, S. 3. I

pray you all, tell me what they deserve,
That do conspire my death with devilish plots
Of damned witchcraft; and that have prevailid
Upon my body with their hellish charms ?

Richard III. A. 3, S. 4.

52

S. I.

S. 40

CH A S T IT Y. He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana : a nun of winter's lifterhood kiffes not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

As you like it, A.

3, She's not forward, but modest as the dove; She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; For patience she will prove a second Griffel; And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.

Taming of the Shrew, A. 2, S. I. My chastity's the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; Which were the greatest obloquy i’ the world In me to lose. All's well that ends well, A. 4, S. 2. Qut on thy seeming! I will write against it:

You

You seem to me as Dian in her orb;
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.

Much ado about nothing, A. 4, S. t.

O ill-starr'd wench! Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl, Even like thy chastity. Othello, A. 5, S. 2.

CHILD, CHILDREN. He hath play'd on this prologue, like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.

Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 1. It is a gallant child; one that, indeed, phyficks the subject, makes old hearts fresh; they, that went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their life to see him a man.

Winter's Tale, A. I, S. 1. He makes a July's day short as December; And, with his varying childness, cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood. .

Winter's Tale, A. I, S. 2. If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view; And that be heir to his unhappiness!

Richard III. A. I, S. 2. You have no children, butchers! if you had, The thought of them would have stirr'd

up

remorse : i But, if you ever chance to have a child, Look in his youth to have him so cut off, As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young prince.

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 5, S. 5. Some say, that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds familh in their nests : O, be to me, though thy hard heart fay no,

Nothing

1

Nothing so kind, but something pitiful!

Titus, A. 2, S. 3.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:
That men could tell their children, This is he;
Others would say, where? which is Bolingbroke?

Henry IV. P. 1, A, 3, S. 2.
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country.

Henry V. A. 5, S. 2. Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, And bid him speak of patience. Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1.

Glofter's shew Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile With forrow snares relenting passengers ; Or as the snake, rolld on a flowering bank, With shining checker'd flough, doth sting a child, That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.

Henry VI. P. 2, A. 3, S. 1. Offer'd by a child to an old man; which is wit-old'.

Love's Labour Loft, A. 5, S. 1.

с н о п с Е.

If there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream. .

Midsummer Night's Dream, A. I, S. 1.

Offer'd by a child to an old man, which is wit-old.]. An equivoque. " Wit-old” may mean, either old in wit, or according to the found, wittol, a contented cuckold.

A. B. CLOUD.

CLOUD.
Those things seem small, and undistinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.

Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 4, S. 1,
Soinetime, we fee a cloud that's dragonish;
A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air. Ant, and Cle. A. 4, S. 12,

C L O W N.

1 The roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing.

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

COM F O R T.

If it were now to die,
"Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate. Otbello, A. 2, S. I.

Every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal, like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear.

Henry V. A. 4, Chorus.

Brother, men Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel.

Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1. * The roynila clown.] Roynish, from rogneux, Fr. mangy, scurvy:

STEEVENS. Mr. Steevens has mistaken the sense. To royne, is to bite, “ Roynish,” in this place, is confequently satirical carping, RONGER, MORDRE (Medire, reprendre, çenfurer avec malignité.) Digt.

A. B.

Give not me counsel;
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.

Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1.
What say you now? What comfort have we now?
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more.

Richard II. A. 3, S. 2.
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 intreat the north,
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. King John, A. 5, S. 7.

- Is this your comfort ?
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman loft among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd?
I will not wish

ye

half my miseries, I have more charity. Henry VIII. A. 3, S. 1. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness.

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

Think with thyself, How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither: since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with

comforts, Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and sorrow, Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The son, the husband, and the father tearing His country's bowels out. Coriolanus, A. 5, S. 3

To apprehend thus, Draws us a profit from all things we fee:

And