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OTHELLO. III. 3.

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name

Robs me of that, which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed!

MACBETH, I, 7.

I dare do all that may become a man ;
Who dares do more, is none.

We fail!

But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail.

II. I.

Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep!
Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast."

Still it cried "Sleep no more!" to all the house;
"Glamis hath murdered sleep; and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more! Macbeth shall sleep no more!"

THE DUKE, IN "AS YOU LIKE IT.”

II. I.

Now my co-mates and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril, than the envious court?

Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference; as the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
"This is no flattery;" these are counsellors,
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head :
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

JAQUES.

In "As You Like It." II. 7.

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. As, first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms :
And then the whining school-boy with his satchel,
And shining morning-face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then the soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel;
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,

D

With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes,
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

WOLSEY.

In "Henry VIII." III. 2.

Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root;
And then he falls as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders,
These many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride
At length broke under me; and now has left me,
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new opened. Oh, how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and our ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ;
And, when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

Had I but served my God, with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.

SONG.

In "As You Like It." II. 7.

Blow, blow, thou winter-wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude!
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky.
That dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot!
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

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SONG.

In Love's Labour's Lost." V. 2.

When icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail ; When blood is nipt, and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whoo!

Tu-whit! tu-whoo!- -a merry note.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marion's nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whoo!

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AUTOLYCUS.

In Winter's Tale. IV. 2.

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a;
A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tires in a mile-a.

SONG.

In The Merchant of Venice. III. 2.
[While the Lover makes his choice].
Tell me, where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourish-ed?—
Reply, reply.

It is engendered in the eyes;
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle, where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy's knell;
I'll begin it," Ding, dong, bell.
Ding, dong, bell.”

ARIEL'S SONG.

In The Tempest. I. 2.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands: Court'sied when you have and kiss'd,— The wild waves whist,

Foot it featly here and there;

And sweet sprites, the burden bear,

Hark, hark!

The watch-dogs bark :

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticlere.

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