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He is but a bastard to the time,

a That doth not smack of observation.

Act i. Sc. I.

Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth.

Act i. Sc. I.

For courage mounteth with occasion.

Act ii. Sc. I.

I would that I were low laid in my grave;
I am not worth this coil that's made for me. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Here I and sorrow sit ;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

Act i. Sc. I.

Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villany!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side !
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety !

Act iii. Sc. I.

Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.

Act iii. Sc. I.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

When fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye.

Act iii. Sc. 4. And he that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. Act iii. Sc. 4.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

a

And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault,
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
Makes ill deeds done!

Act iv. Sc. 2.

Mocking the air with colours idly spread.

Act v. Sc. I.

KING RICHARD II.

All places that the eye of Heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.

Act i. Sc. 3.

Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast ?

а.

Acti, Sc. 3.

The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. Act i. Sc. 3.

The ripost fruit first falls.

Act i. Sc. I.

Not all the waters in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed king. Act iii. Sc. 2.

And nothing can we call our own but death ;
And that small module of the barren earth,
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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In those holy fields,
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nailed
For our advantage on the bitter cross.

Act i. Sc. I.

Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon.

Act i. Sc. 2.

Old father antic the law.

Act i. Sc. 2.

Thou hast damnable iteration.

Act i. Sc. 2.

And now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked.

Act i. Sc. 2.

'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.

Act i. Sc. 2.

He will give the devil his due.

Act i. Sc. 2.

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility. Act i. Sc. 3.

And that it was great pity, so it was,
This villanous saltpetre should be digged
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier. Act i. Sc. 3.

The blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare.

Act 1. Sc. 3.

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap,
To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon ;
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks.

Act i. Sc. 3. I know a trick worth two of that.

Act ii. Sc. I.

If the rascal have not given me medicine to make me love him, I 'll be hanged.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.

dct ii. Sc. 3. Brain him with his lady's fan.

Act ii. Sc. 3.

A plague of all cowards, I say.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

Call you that backing of your friends ? a plague upon such backing!

Act ii. Sc. 4.

I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Thou knowest my old ward ; here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at

me.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

Give you a reason on compulsion ! if reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

I was a coward on instinct.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

No more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. Act ii. Sc. 4.

A plague of sighing and grief ! it blows a man up like a bladder.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

a

In King Cambyses' vein.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.

Act ii. Sc. 4. O monstrous ! but one halfpenny-worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack.

Act ü. Sc. 4.

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