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And that dead saint which then I weeping


O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish,—Be thou, quoth I, accurs'd,
For making me, so young, so old a widow!
And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
And be thy wife (if any be so mad)

More miserable by the life of thee,

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death !
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,

Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse: Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest;

For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

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


WHEREFORE rejoice? What conquest brings

he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!

O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,

Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome:
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores ?

And do you now put on your best attire ?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Be gone;

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.

JULIUS CESAR, A. 1, 3. 1.


To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield.
Love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands;
When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands.

PERICLES, A. 2, s. 4.



It is yours;

And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge,

So like you, 'tis the worse.-Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father: eye, nose, lip,

The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the valley,

The pretty dimples of his chin, and cheek; his


The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger:

And thou, good goddess nature, which hast made it

So like to him that got it, if thou hast

The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow in't; lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's!

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For my part, I have walk'd about the streets,
Submitting me unto the perilous night;
And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see,
Have bar'd my bosom to the thunder-stone:
And, when the cross-blue lightning seem'd to


The breast of heaven, I did present myself
Even in the aim and very flash of it.

You are dull, Casca; and those sparks of life
That should be in a Roman, you do want,
Or else you use not: You look pale, and gaze,
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder,
To see the strange impatience of the heavens:
But if you would consider the true cause,
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts,
Why birds and beasts, from quality and kind;

Why old men fools, and children calculate:

Why all these things change, from their ordi


Their natures, and pre-formed faculties,

To monstrous quality; why, you shall find,
That heaven hath infus'd them with these

To make them instruments of fear, and warning,
Unto some monstrous state. Now could I,

Name to thee a man most like this dreadful

That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
As doth the lion in the Capitol :

A man no mightier than thyself, or me,
In personal action; yet prodigious grown,
And fearful, as these strange eruptions are.

JULIUS CESAR, a. 1, s. 3.



Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss

On faint deeds, hollow welcomes,

Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown;

But where there is true friendship, there needs


Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes,
Than my fortunes to me.

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, s. 2.


Ir is great sin, to swear unto a sin;
But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath.

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Who can be bound by any solemn vow
To do a murderous deed, to rob a man,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony,
To wring the widow from her custom'd right;
And have no other reason for this wrong,
But that he was bound by a solemn oath ?

K. HENRY VI., PART II., A. 5, s. 1.


LUCIUS. Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us

To melt in showers: Thy grandsire lov'd thee well:

Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee,

Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow;
Many a matter hath he told to thee,

Meet, and agreeing with thine infancy;
In that respect then, like a loving child,
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender

Because kind nature doth require it so:

Friends should associate friends in grief and woe:
Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave;
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him.
Boy. O grandsire, grandsire! even with all
my heart

Would I were dead, so you did live again!
O lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping;
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth.


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