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Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes
For insurrection's arguing.

The beast

With many heads butts me away.

You have made good work,

You, and your apron-men.

Hence; home, you idle creatures, get you home:

Is this a holiday? What! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk,
Upon a labouring day, without the sign

Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth,
As I can of those mysteries which heaven
Will not have earth to know.

C. i. 1.

C. iv. 1.

C. iv. 6.

M. V. ii. 9.

C. iv. 2.

They said they were an hungry, sigh'd forth proverbs;
That, hunger broke stone walls; that, dogs must eat;
That, meat was made for mouths; that, the gods sent not
Corn for the rich men only :-With these shreds
They vented their complainings.

Whose rage doth rend

Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear

What they are us'd to bear.

The shouting varletry.

This inundation of mistemper'd humour.


The horn and noise o' the monsters.

The tongues o' the common mouth.

The herdsman of the beastly plebeians.


By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff.
But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,
She'd mock me into air; O, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly:
It were a better death than die with mocks ;
Which is as bad as die with tickling.
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
How my achievements mock me.

C. i. 1

C. iii. 1 A. C. v. 2.

K. J. v. 1.

C. iii. 1.

C. iii. 1.

C. ii. 1.

L. L. v.2.

M. A. iii. 1.

M. N. iii. 2

T.C. iv. 2.


A pestilence on him!-now will he be mocking. T. C. iv. 2.
H. IV. PT. II. V. 2.

To mock the expectation of the world.
They do it but in mocking merriment;
And mock for mock is only my intent.


O, such a deed

As from the body of contraction plucks
The very soul; and sweet religion makes
A rhapsody of words.


Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop,
Not to out-sport discretion.

L. L. v. 2.

H. iii. 4.

O. ii. 3.

For aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing; it is no mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. M. V. i. 2.

What's amiss,

May it be gently heard: When we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit

Murder in healing wounds: Thou, noble partner,
(The rather, for I earnestly beseech,)

Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness grow to the matter.

A. C. ii. 2.


It is the witness still of excellency,

To put a strange face on his own perfection.

M. A. ii. 3.

Bashful sincerity and comely love.

M. A. iv. 1.

Can it be,

That modesty may more betray our sense

Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,

And pitch our evils there?

Too modest are you;

More cruel to your good report, than grateful

To us that give you truly.


M.M. ii. 2.

C. i. 9.

I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in ; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. T. N. ii. 1.


For they say, if money go before, all ways do lie open.

Money is a good soldier, Sir, and will on.

M. W. ii. 2.

M. W. ii. 2.

O what a world of vile, ill-favour'd faults,
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!

M. W. iii. 4.

But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the money.

H. IV. PT. I. ii. 4.

Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me back,
When gold and silver becks me to come on.
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt!
As 'tis no better reckon'd but of those
Who worship dirty gods.


K. J. iii. 1.

Cym. iii. 6.

By this good light this is a very shallow monster: I afeard of him?-a very weak monster: The man in the moon?-a most poor credulous monster :-well drawn monster, in good sooth.

T. ii. 2.

I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster! A most scurvy monster.

T. ii. 2.

ATTRACTIVENESS OF, IN ENGLAND. Were I in England now, (as once I was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. T. ii. 2.


I cannot hide what I am: I must be sad when I have cause, and smile at no man's jests; eat when I have stomach, and wait for no man's leisure; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend to no man's business; laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humour."

I love to cope him in these sullen fits,
For then he's full of matter.


O sovereign mistress of true melancholy.
The moon, the governess of floods,

Pale in her anger, washes all the air,
That rheumatic diseases do abound:

And, through this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter.

The pale-fac'd moon.

M. A. i. 3.

A. Y. ii. 1.

A. C. iv. 9

M. N. ii. 2.

R. II. ii. 4.


How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears.


M. V. v. 1.

Methinks, how slow

M. N. i. 1

This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,
Long withering out a young man's revenue.

See, how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!
How well resembles it the prince of youth,
Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love!

The busy day,

H. VI. PT. II. ii. 1.

Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald crows.

The sun is on the heaven; and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton.


Even so must I run on, and even so stop.
This muddy vesture of decay.


Things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs.



T. C. iv. 2.

K. J. iii. 3.

K. J. v.7.

M.V. v. 1.

T. C. iii. 3

'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet,
To give these mourning duties to your
But, you must know, your father lost a father;
That father lost his; and the survivor bound
In filial obligation, for some term

To do obsequious sorrow: But to persévere
In obstinate condolement, is a course

Of impious stubbornness: 'tis unmanly grief:
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven:

A heart unfortified, a mind impatient;
An understanding simple and unschool'd:
For what we know, must be, and is as common
As any the most vulgar thing to sense,
Why should we, in our peevish opposition,
Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature,
To reason most absurd; whose common theme


Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried,
From the first corse, till he that died to-day,
"This must be so."

Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play :
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suit of woe.

MUCH ADO about Nothing.

To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air,
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
That should but rive an oak.


H. i. 2.

H.i. 2.

C. v. 3.

The best ward of mine honour, is, rewarding my dependents.


The great King of kings

Hath in the table of his law commanded,

L. L. iii. 1.

That thou shalt do no murder: Wilt thou then
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's?

Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand,

To hurl upon their heads that break his law.

R. III. i. 4

There is no sure foundation set on blood;
No certain life achiev'd by others' death.

K. J. iv. 2.

Not afraid to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damned for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me.

This is the bloodiest shame,
The wildest savag'ry, the vilest stroke,
That ever wall-eyed wrath, or staring rage,
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,

R. III. i. 4.

-K. J. iv. 3.

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear

The very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it.

The tyrannous and bloody act is done;
The most arch deed of piteous massacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of.

M. ii. 1

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