I, in mine own woe charm'd,
Could not find Death, where I did hear him groan;
Nor feel him, where he struck. Being an ugly monster,
'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more minifters than we,

That draw his knives i' th' war. Cymbeline, A. 5. Sc. 2.

Oh, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel;
The fwords of foldiers are his teeth, his fangs:
And now he feafts, mouthing the fleth of men,
In undetermin'd diff'rences of kings.

King John, A. 2. Sc. 1.

Death! death! oh amiable, lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench, found rottenness;
Arife forth from thy couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to profperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones,
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows,
And ring these fingers with thy household worms,
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome duft,
And be a carrion monster like thyself;
Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st,
And kiss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,
O come to me!

Nothing in his life

Became him like the leaving it: he died
As one that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd
As 'twere a careless trifle.

Ibid, A. 3. Sc. 3.

Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 4.

Oh, vanity of sickness! fierce extremes
In their continuance will not feel themselves.
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them: invisible, his fiege is now

Against the mind; the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies,

Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
Confound themselves.

King John, A. 5. Sc. 7.

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,

It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,

Will come when it will come. Julius Cæfar, A. 2. Sc. z.

Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life,

Cuts off so many years of fearing death. Ibid, A. 3. Sc. 1.

DECEIT.

Ah! that deceit should steal such gentle shape,

And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice!

King Richard III. A. 2. Sc. z.

DECEPΤΙΟΝ.

The world is still deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
But, being season'd with a gracious voice,
Obscures the shew of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but fome fober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the grofssness with fair ornament?
There is no vice so simple, but assumes
Some mark of virtue on its outward parts.
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As ftairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk!
And these assume but valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lightest that wear most of it:
So are those crisped snaky golden locks,
Which make fuch wanton gambols with the wind
Upon supposed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the fepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dang'rous sea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty: in a word,

The feeming truth which cunning times put on
To entrap the wisest. The Merchant of Venice, A. 3. Sc. 1.

There's no art

To find the mind's construction in the face :
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An abfolute truft.

Macbeth. A. 1. Sc.

DEER WOUNDED.

To-day my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor sequester'd flag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and indeed, my Lord,
The wretch'd animal heav'd forth such groans,
That their difcharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe
In piteous chace; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears. As you Like It, A. 2. Sc. I.

DEFORMITY.

Why, Love forswore me in my mother's womb;
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail Nature with fome bribe
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a chaos, or unlick'd bear-whelp,
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?

Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought!

Henry VI. Part III. A. 3. Sc. 2.

But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an am'rous looking-glass-
I, that am rudely stampt, and want love's majesty

To ftrut before a wanton ambling nymph;

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

Cheated

Cheated of feature by dissembling Nature;
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up;
And that so lamely and unfashionably,
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them:
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the fun,
And descant on mine own deformity.
And therefore, fince I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determin'd to prove a villain,

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

King Richard III. A. 1. Sc. 1,

DELAY.

Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of Time

Steals ere we can effect them.

All's Well that End's Well, A. 5. Sc. 2.

Come-I have learn'd that fearful. Commenting

Is leaden servitor to dull Delay;

Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd Beggary.

Richard III. A. 4. Sc. 3.

DEPARTING DISEASES.

Before the curing of a strong disease,
E'en in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongeft: evils that take leave,
In their departure most of all shew evil.

DESPAIR.

King John, A. 3. Sc. 3.

Do not repent these things; for they are heavier
Than all thy woes can stir: therefore betake thee
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees,..
Ten thousand years together, naked, fafting,
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter,
In storm perpetual, could not move the Gods.
To look that way thou wert.

The Winter's Tale, A. 3. Sc.az.

If thou didst but confent

To this most cruel act, do but despair;
And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb

Will strangle thee; a rush will be a beam

To hang thee on or, wouldst thou drown thyself,

Put but a little water in a spoon,

And it shall be as all the ocean,

Enough to ftifle fuch a villain up.

King John, A. 4. Sc. 3.

Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,

And I will stand the hazard of the die.

I think there be fix Richmonds in the field;

Five have I flain to-day instead of him,

A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horfe !

King Richard III. A. 5. Sc. 8.

DESPERATION.

!

- - I will to-morrow
(And betimes I will) unto the weird Sisters;
More shall they speak; for now I'm bent to know,
By the worst means, the worst: for mine own good
All causes shall give way. I am in blood
Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand;
Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.

Macbeth, A. 3. Sc. 4.

What if it tempt you tow'rd the flood, my Lord;
Or to the dreadful fummit of the cliff,
That beetles o'er his base into the fea;
And there affume some other horrible form,
Which might deprive your fov'reignty of reason,
And draw you into madness? Think of it.
The very place puts toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain,
That looks fo many fathoms to the fea,
And hears it roar beneath.

Hamlet, A. 1. Sc. 7.

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