Come grin on me, and I will think thou smil’st,
And kils thee as thy wife! Mifery's love,
O come to me!

.

Ibid. A. 3. Sc. 3.

Nothing in his life

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

Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 4.

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

Against the mind; the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of ftrange fantafies,

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

King John, A. 5. Sc. 7.

Cowards die many times before their deaths ;
The valiant never tafte of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It feems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a neceffary end,

Will come, when it will come.

Julius Cæfar, A. 2. Sc. 2.

Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life,
Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Ibid. A.

3.

Sc. 1.

REFLECTIONS

UPON DEATH.

(In the Character of Yorick.)

-Alas! poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jet, of moft excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how ab hoir'd in my imagination it is! my gorge rifes at it. Here hung thofe lips that I have kifs'd I know not how oft!Where be your gibes now? your gambols?

your

your fongs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to fet the table on a roar?-Not one now to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour fhe must come ;-make her laugh at that. Pr'ythee, Horatio, tell me one thing.

Hor. What's that, my Lord?

Ham. Doft thou think Alexander look'd o'this fafhion on the earth?

Hor. E'en fo.

Ham. And fmelt fo? Pah!

Hor. E'en fo, my Lord.

Ham. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble duft of Alexander till he find it ftopping a bung-hole?

Hor. 'Twere to confider too curiously, to confider fo.

Ham. No, faith; not a jot: but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as thus, Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to duft, the dust is earth, of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel ?

Imperial Cafar dead, and turn'd to clay,
Might top a hole to keep the wind away :
O that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall t'expel the winter's flaw!
Hamlet, A. 5. Sc. 1.

DECEPTION.

The world is ftill deceiv'd with ornament.
In law, what plea fo tainted and corrupt,
But, being feafon'd with a gracious voice,
Obfcures the fhew of evil? In religion,
What damned error, but fome fober brow
Will bless it, and approve it with a text,
Hiding the groffnefs with fair ornament ?
There is no vice fo fimple, but affumes
Some mark of virtue on its outward parts.
How many cowards, whofe hearts are all as fa fe
As ftairs of fand, wear yet upon their chins

F.

The

The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who, inward searcht, have livers white as milk?
And these affume but valour's excrement,
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty,
And you fhall fee 'tis purchas'd by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature,
Making them lighteft that wear most of it :
So are thofe crifped fnaky golden locks,
Which make fuch wanton gambols with the wind
Upon fuppofed fairnefs, often known

To be the dowry of a fecond head,
The skull that bred them, in the fepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiled fhore

To a moft dang'rous fea; the beauteous scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty in a word,

The feeming truth which cunning times put on
T'entrap the wifeft.

The Merchant of Venice, A. 3. Sc. I.

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. 4.

DEER WOUNDED.

To-day, my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did fteal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whofe antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor fequeftered ftag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my Lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth fuch groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almoft to bursting, and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nofe
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th' extremeft verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.

As You Like It, A. 2. Sc. 1.

D. E LA Y.

Let's take the inftant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick❜ft decrees
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time

Steals, ere we can effect them.

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

Come-I have learn'd that fearful commenting

Is leaden fervitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and fnail-pac'd beggary.

DEPARTING

Richard III. A. 4. Sc. 3.

DISEASES.

Before the curing of a strong disease,
E'en in the inftant of repair and health,
The fit is ftrongeft: evils that take leave,
In their departure moft of all fhew evil.

King John, A. 3. Sc. 3

DESPAIR.

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

The Winter's Tale, A.

- If thou did❜ft but confent

To this moft cruel act, do but defpair,

And, if thou want'ft a cord, the finalleft thread
That ever fpider twifted from her womb

Will ftrangle thee; a rush will be a beam

3.

Sc. 2.

To hang thee on: or, would't thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a fpoon,

And it fhall be as all the ocean,

Enough to ftifle fuch a villain

DESPERATION.
I will to-morrow

(And betimes I will) unto the weird fifters:
More fhall they speak; for I'm now bent to know,

By

By the worft means, the worft: for mine own good,
All caufes fhall give way. I am in blood
Stept in fo far, that, fhould 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.

DESP ONDENCE.

My fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up:
My father's lofs, the weakness that I feel,

The wrack of all my friends, and this man's threats,
To whom I am fubdu'd, are but light to me;
Might I but through my priton once a day
Behold this maid: all corners elfe o'th'earth
Let liberty make ufe of; fpace enough
Have I, in fuch a prison.

The Tempeft, A. 1. Sc. 2.

There's nothing in this world can make me joy;
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,

Vexing the dull ear of a drowfy man.

A bitter fhame hath spoilt the fweet world's tafte,
That it yields nought but fhame and bitterness.

King John, A. 3. Sc. 3.

I have liv'd long enough: my May of life
Is fall'n into the fere, the yellow leaf;
And that which fhould accompany old-age,
As honour, love, obedience, troop of friends,
I must not look to have; but in their ftead,
Curfes not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Macbeth, A. 5. Sc. 3.

DETR ACTION.

Men's evil manners live in brafs; their virtues

We write in water.

Henry VIII. A. 4. Sc. 2.

DIGNITY.

Had I fo lavish of my prefence been,

So common hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company,

Opinion,