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But where unbruised youth, with unstuff'd brain

Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth

reign.

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, s. 3.

SMOOTH WATERS RUN DEEP.

VIOLENT delights have violent ends,

And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume: The sweetest honey

Is loathsome in his own deliciousness,
And in the taste confounds the appetite:
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

ROMEO AND JULIET, A. 2, s. 6.

SOLITUDE ENJOYED BY CONTRAST.

How use doth breed a habit in a man.
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,

And to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record my woes.
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast,
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless;
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall,
And leave no memory of what it was!
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia;
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain!

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, A. 5, s. 4.

SORROW.

THE bird is dead,

That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, Than have seen this.

O sweetest, fairest lily!

CYMBELINE, A. 4, s. 2.

SOUR BIGOTRY WORRYING

CHARITY.

CHANCELLOR. My good lord archbishop, I

am very sorry

To sit here at this present, and behold

That chair stand empty: But we all are men, In our own natures frail; and capable

Of our flesh, few are angels: out of which frailty, And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us,

Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chaplains,

(For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions, Divers and dangerous; which are heresies, And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

GARDINER. Which reformation must be sudden too,

My noble lords: for those that tame wild horses, Pace them not in their hands to make them

gentle;

But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them,

Till they obey the manage. If we suffer

(Out of our easiness, and childish pity

To one man's honour) this contagious sickness, Farewell, all physick; And what follows then ? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint

Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours,

The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.

CRANMER. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress

Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And with no little study, that my teaching,
And the strong course of my authority,
Might go one way, and safely; and the end
Was ever to do well: nor is there living
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords,)
A man that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience, and his place,
Defacers of a publick peace, than I do.
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it! Men, that make
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
That, in this case of justice, my accusers,

Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.

SUFFOLK.

Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a counsellor,

And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. GAR. My lord, because we have business of

more moment,

We will be short with you. "Tis his highness' pleasure,

And our consent, for better trial of you,

From hence you be committed to the Tower,
Where, being but a private man again,

You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, More than, I fear, you are provided for.

CRAN. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you,

You are always my good friend; if your will

pass,

I shall both find your lordship judge and juror,
You are so merciful: I see your end,

'Tis my undoing: Love and meekness, lord,
Become a churchman better than ambition;
Win straying souls with modesty again,
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience,
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience,
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,
But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
GAR. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary,
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss dis-

covers,

To men that understand you, words and weakness. CROMWELL. My lord of Winchester, you are a little,

By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

K. HENRY VIII., A. 5, s. 2.

SYMPATHY OF THE AFFECTIONS. DUKE. Thou dost speak masterly:

My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves; Hath it not, boy?

VIOLA.

A little, by your favour.

DUKE. What kind of woman is't?

VIO.
DUKE.

Of your complexion.

She is not worth thee then. What

years, i'faith?

VIO. About your years, my lord.

DUKE. Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So
sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.

VIO.

I think it well, my lord. DUKE. Then let thy love be younger than thyself,

Or thy affection cannot hold the bent:
For women are as roses; whose fair flower,
Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour.
VIO. And so they are: alas, that they are

so;

To die, even when they to perfection grow!

TWELFTH NIGHT, A. 2, s. 4.

SPIRITS SYMPATHIZE WITH

PROSPERO.

HUMANITY.

Say, my spirit,

Confin'd together

How fares the king and his ?

ARIEL.

In the same fashion as you gave in charge;

Just as you left them, sir; all prisoners

In the lime-grove which weather-fends your

cell;

They cannot budge, till your release. The

king,

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