Take thou the pound of flesh;

But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed

One drop of Chriftian blood, thy lands and goods Are by the laws of Venice, confifcate

Unto the state of Venice.

Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1.

You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have
A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive
Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that:
But, fay, it is my humour; is it anfwer'd?

Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1.

This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
The words expressly are a pound of flesh :

Then take thy bond. Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1.

Here

Will I fet up my everlasting reft;

And shake the yoke of inaufpicious stars

From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss.

Romeo and Juliet, A. 5, S. 3.

Hate all, curfe all; fhew charity to none;
But let the famish'd flesh flide from the bone
Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs
What thou deny'st to men.

Lay her i' the earth ;

Timon of Athens, A. 4, S. 4.

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

May violets spring!—I tell thee, churlish priest,

A miniftring angel fhall my fifter be,

When thou lieft howling.

Hamlet, A. 5, S. 1.

To die ;-to fleep ;

No more?-and, by a fleep, to fay we end
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural fhocks

That

That flesh is heir to,-'tis a confummation

Devoutly to be wifh'd.

I

Hamlet, A. 3, S. 1.

But we all are men,

In our own natures frail; and capable

Of our flesh, few are angels. Henry VIII. A. 5, S. 2.

FLO O D.

This man's brow, like to a title leaf,

Foretells the nature of a tragick volume:

So looks the strand, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd ufurpation.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. 1, S. 1.

FLOWERS.

The ruddock would,

With charitable bill (O bill, fore-fhaming
Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie
Without a monument !) bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr'd mofs befides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corfe. Cymbeline, A. 4, S. 2.
With faireft flowers,

Whilft fummer lafts, and I live here, Fidele,
I'll fweeten thy fad grave: thou shalt not lack
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrofe; nor
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to flander,
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath. Cymbeline, A. 4, S. 2.

I

But we all are men,

In our own natures frail; and capable

Of our flesh, few are angels.] If this paffage means any thing, it may mean, few are perfect while they remain in their mor tal capacity.

STEEVENS. May not Shakespeare have written frail and culpable? The change is easy. I would read and point thus:

We all are men,

In our own natures frail and culpable:
Of our flesh few are angels,

A. B.

O Pro

O Proferpina,

For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'ft fall
From Dis's waggon! daffodils,

That come before the fwallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.

The faireft flowers o' the feason

Are our carnations, and streak'd gilly-flowers,
Which fome call, nature's bastards: of that kind

Our ruftick garden's barren.

Winter's Tale, A. 4, S. 3.

-Like the bee tolling from

every flower

The virtuous fweets. Henry IV. P. 2, A. 4, S. 4.

Be advis'd;

FOE, FOE S.

Heat not a furnace for your foe fo hot

That it do finge yourfelf: We may out-run,
By violent fwiftnefs, that which we run at,

And lofe by over-running. Henry VIII. A. 1, S. 1.
Like a jolly troop of huntsmen come

Our lufty English, all with purpled hands,
Dy'd in the dying flaughter of their foes.

King John, A, 2, S.

Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads?
Or fhall we on the helmets of our foes
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?

66

I

2.

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 2, S. 1.

like the bee tolling from every flower

The virtuous feets.] The reading of the quarto is tol

ling. The folio reads culling. Tolling is taking toll. STEEVENS. Tolling" is not in this place taking toll, or tribute, but fimply taking away. The fenfe is the fame as culling.

A. B.

Henry,

Henry, your fovereign,
Is prifoner to the foe; his ftate ufurp'd,
His realm a flaughter-houfe, his fubjects flain,
His ftatutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ;
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this fpoil.

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 5, S. 4.

I fpake of moft difaftrous chances,

Of moving accidents, by flood, and field;
Of hair-breadth 'fcapes i' the imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the infolent foe,

And fold to flavery.

Othello, A. 1, S. 3.

I have kept back their foes, While they have told their money, and let out Their coin upon large intereft; I myself, Rich only in large hurts. All thofe, for this? Is this the balfam that the ufuring fenate Pours into captain's wounds?

Timon of Athens, A. 3, S. 5.

FOOL, FOOLS, FOLLY.

God give them wifdom, that have it: and those that are fools, let them ufe their talents.

Twelfth Night, A. 1, S. 5.

The lady Olivia has no folly: fhe will keep no fool, fir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands, as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger. Twelfth Night, A. 3, S. 1.

There is no flander in an allow'd fool, though he do nothing but rail: nor no railing in a known difcreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Twelfth Night, A. 1, S. 5. This fellow is wife enough to play the fool; And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit; He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of the perfons, and the time;

And, like the haggard, checks at every feather
That comes before his eye. Twelfth Night, A. 3, S. 1,
-I am a fool,

To weep at what I am glad of.

Tempest, A. 3, S. 1,

The loyalty, well held to fools, does make
Our faith mere folly:-Yet, he that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord,

Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
And earns a place i' the story.

Ant. and Cleop. A. 3, S. 11.
You may as well
Forbid the fea for to obey the moon,

As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake
The fabrick of his folly. Winter's Tale, A. 1, S. 2.

If thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wife men know well enough, what monsters you make of them. Hamlet, A. 3, S. 1.

I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for fo fools have:
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh.

As you like it, A. 2, S. 7.

Thou art a fool: fhe robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt show more bright, and feem more vir

tuous

When the is

gone.

As you like it, A. 1, S. 3.

When I did hear

The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools fhould be fo deep contemplative.

As you like it, A. 2, S. 7.

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life.

Lear, A. 5, S. 3,

And

And my poor fool is hang'd.] This is an expreffion of tenderaefs for his dead Cordelia (not his fool, as fome have thought),

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