Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ach, penury, imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise

To what we fear of death.

Meafure for Measure, A. 3. Sc. 1.

FORTITUDE,

Fortune's blows

Coriolanus, A. 4. Sc. I.

When most struck home, being gentle-wounded, crave

A noble cunning.

I dare do all that may become a man ;

Who dares do more, is none.

Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 7.

FORTUNE.

Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words ftill in fouleft letters ?
She either gives a ftomach and no food;
Such are the poor in health: or else a feast,
And takes away the ftomach; fuch the rich
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

Henry IV. Part II. A. 4. Sc. 4.

FUNERAL ORATION.

With faireft flowers,

Whilst summer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,

I'll sweeten thy fad grave; thou shalt not lack
The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor
The azure hare bell, like thy veins, no nor
The leaf of Eglantine, whom not to flander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would
With charitable bill, (O bill fore fhaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument !) bring thee all this;

Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flowers are none
To winter-ground thy corfe.

Cymbeline, A. 4. Sc. 2.

GOLD.

'Tis gold

Which buys admittance, oft it doth; yea, makes
Diana's rangers, falfe themselves, yield up

Their deer to th' ftand o' th' ftealer: and 'tis gold,
Which makes the true man kill'd, and faves the thief;
Nay, fometimes, hangs both thief and true man. What
Can it not do, and undo? Cymbeline, A. 2. Sc. 4.

GREATNESS.

'Tis certain, Greatness once fall'n out with Fortune,
Muft fall out with men too: What the decline is,
He fhall as foon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Shew not their mealy wings but to the fummer;
And not a man, for being fimply man,

Hath

Hath any honour, but honour by thofe honours
That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit,

Which, when they fall, (as being flipp'ry ftanders)
The love that lean'd on them, as flipp'ry too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall.

Troilus and Creffida, A. 3. Sc. 7.

HUMAN LIFE.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipt them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues.

All's Well that Ends Well, A. 4. Sc. 3.

HYPOCRISY.

To beguile the time,

Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,

But be the ferpent under it. Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 5.

IMAGINATION.

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,

Are of imagination all compact:

One fees more devils than vaft hell can hold;
The madman: while the lover, all as frantic,

Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.

The

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,

Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to

heaven:

And, as imagination bodies forth

The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

A Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 5. Sc. 1.

INGRATITUD E.

Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, 'The breath is gone whereof this praise is made.

Timon of Athens, A. 2. Sc. 2.

INTEGRITY.

There is a kind of character in thy life,
That to th' observer doth thy history
Fully unfold: thyself and thy belongings
Are not thine own fo proper, as to waste
Thyself upon thy virtues; they on thee.
Heav'n doth with us, as we with torches do,
Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all aliké

As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd,
But to fine iffues: nor Nature never lends
The smalleft fcruple of her excellence,
But, like a thrifty goddefs, the determines

Herself

Herself the glory of a creditor,

Both thanks and use.

Measure for Measure, A. 1.

KINGS.

For within the hollow crown,

That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps Death his court: and there the antic fits
Scoffing his ftate, and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene

To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infufing him with self and vain conceit,

As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brafs impregnable: and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin

Bores through his caftle-walls, and-farewell king!
Richard II. A. 3. Sc. 2.

The cease of majesty

Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it with it: it is a maffy wheel
Fix'd on the fummit of the highest mount,
To whofe huge spokes ten thousand leffer things
Are mortis'd and adjoin'd; which, when it falls,
Each small annexment, petty consequence,
Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone
Did the king figh, but with a general groan,

Hamlet, A. 2. Sc. 3.
LABOUR.