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Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base;
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep!
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place!

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, s. 2.

THE BROW OF ROYALTY.

appear,

SEE, see, king Richard doth himself
As doth the blushing discontented sun,
From out the fiery portal of the east,
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
To dim his glory, and to stain the track
Of his bright passage to the occident.
Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
Controuling majesty: Alack, alack, for woe,
That any harm should stain so fair a show!

K. RICHARD II., A. 3, s. 3.

THE CARES OF ROYALTY.

THIS battle fares like to the morning's war,
When dying clouds contend with growing light;
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea,
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea,
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind:

Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind:
Now, one the better; then, another best;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,

Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered:
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory!
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both,
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
'Would I were dead! if God's good will were so:
For what is in this world, but grief and woe?
O God! methinks it were a happy life,
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run:
How many make the hour full complete,
How many hours bring about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I tend my flock;

So

many hours must I take my rest;

So many hours must I cóntemplate;
So many hours must I sport myself;

So many days my ewes have been with young;
So
many weeks ere the fools will yean;
poor
So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece;

So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and

years,

Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how
lovely!

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy

To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?

O, yes it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,

When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.

K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 2, s. 5.

THE CARES OF THE GREAT. SORROW breaks seasons, and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.

Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil;
And, for unfelt imaginations,

They often feel a world of restless cares:
So that, between their titles, and low name,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, s. 4.

THE CHARM OF GOOD MANNERS AND EXPRESSION.

SEBASTIAN, I have entertained thee,

Partly, that I have need of such a youth,
That can with some discretion do my business,
For 'tis no trusting to yon foolish lowt;
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behaviour;
Which (if my augury deceive me not)
Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth :
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 4, s. 4.

THE CHILD OUTWITTING THE MAN.

DUCHESS. I long with all my heart to see the prince:

I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him. Q. ELIZABETH. But I hear, no; they say, my son of York

Hath almost over-ta'en him in his growth.

YORK. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. DUCH. Why, my young cousin? it is good

to grow.

YORK. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,

My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow

More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster,

Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace: And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste.

DUCH. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not hold

In him that did object the same to thee:

He was the wretched'st thing, when he was

young,

So long a growing, and so leisurely,

That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. ARCHBISHOP. And so, no doubt, he is, my

gracious madam.

DUCH. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.

YORK. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,

I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.

DUCH. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me hear it.

YORK. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast, That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old; 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.

K. RICHARD III., A. 2, s. 4.

THE CHOLERICK.

NAY, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; What eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shoes with old ribband? and yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 3, s. 1.

THE CONFESSION AND THE
PLIGHTING.

CRESSIDA. Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart:

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