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That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

All the charms

Tempeft, A. 5, S. 1.

Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!

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Tempeft, A. i, S. 2.

The charm diffolves apace;

And as the morning fteals upon the night,
Melting the darknefs, fo their rifing fenfes
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason.

My high charms work,

Tempest, A. 5, S. 1.

Tempest, A. 3,

S. 3.

And thefe, mine enemies, are all knit up
In their diftractions.

I pray you all, tell me what they deferve,
That do confpire my death with devilish plots
Of damned witchcraft; and that have prevail'd
Upon my body with their hellish charms?

Richard III. A. 3, S. 4.

CHASTITY.

S..4•

He hath bought a pair of caft lips of Diana: a nun of winter's fifterhood kiffes not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.

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She's not forward, but modeft as the dove;

She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience she will prove a fecond Griffel;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.

Taming of the Shrew, A. 2, S. 1.

My chastity's the jewel of our house,
Bequeathed down from many ancestors;
Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world

In me to lofe. All's well that ends well, A. 4, S. 2.
Out on thy feeming! I will write against it:

You

You seem to me as Dian in her orb;
As chafte as is the bud ere it be blown.

Much ado about nothing, A. 4, S. i.

O ill-ftarr'd wench!

Pale as thy fmock! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my foul from heaven,
And fiends will fnatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl,
Even like thy chastity.
Othello, A. 5, S. 2.

CHILD, CHILDRE N.

He hath play'd on this prologue, like a child on a recorder; a found, but not in government.

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 1.

It is a gallant child; one that, indeed, phyficks the subject, makes old hearts fresh; they, that went on crutches ere he was born, defire yet their life to fee him a man. Winter's Tale, A. 1, S. 1.

He makes a July's day fhort as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.

Winter's Tale, A. 1, S. 2.

If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whofe ugly and unnatural aspect

May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!

Richard III. A. 1, S. 2.

up

remorse;

You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd
But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him fo cut off,

As, deathsmen! you have rid this fweet young prince.
Henry VI. P. 3, A. 5, S. 5.

Some fay, that ravens fofter forlorn children,
The whilft their own birds famifh in their nefts:
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no,

Nothing

Nothing fo kind, but fomething pitiful!

Titus, A. 2, S. 3.

By being feldom feen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at :
That men could tell their children, This is he;
Others would fay, where? which is Bolingbroke?
Henry IV. P. 1, A, 3, S. 2.

And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even fo our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have loft, or do not learn, for want of time,
The fciences that should become our country.
Henry V. A. 5, S. 2.

Bring me a father, that fo lov'd his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine,
And bid him fpeak of patience.

Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1.

Glofter's fhew

Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With forrow fnares relenting paffengers;
Or as the fnake, roll'd on a flowering bank,
With fhining checker'd flough, doth fting a child,
That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.

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

Offer'd by a child to an old man ; which is wit-old3.

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CHOICE.

If there were a fympathy in choice,

War, death, or fickness did lay fiege to it;

Making it momentary as a found,

Swift as a fhadow, fhort as any dream.

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Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1.

Offer'd by a child to an old man, which is wit-old.]. An equivoque. "Wit-old" may mean, either old in wit, or according to the found, wittol, a contented cuckold.

A. B.

CLOUD.

CLOUD.

Those things feem fmall, and undiftinguishable,
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds.

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 4, S. 1.
Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish;
A vapour, fometime, like a bear, or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,

A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air. Ant. and Cle. A. 4, S. 12.

CLO W N.

-- The roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is alfo miffing.

As you like it, A. 2,

COMFORT.

If it were now to die,

"Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,
My foul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

S. 2.

S.2.

Othello, A. 2, S. 1.

Every wretch, pining and pale before,

Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:

A largefs univerfal, like the fun,

His liberal eye doth give to every one,

Thawing cold fear.

Henry V. A. 4, Chorus.

Brother, men

Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief

Which they themselves not feel.

vy.

Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1.

The roynifh clown.] Roynifh, from rogneux, Fr. mangy, fcur

STEEVENS.

Mr. Steevens has mistaken the fenfe. To royne, is to bite. "Roynish," in this place, is confequently fatirical carping. RONGER, MORDRE (Medire, reprendre, cenfurer avec malignite.) Dia.

E

A. B.

Give

Give not me counfel;

Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,

But fuch a one whofe wrongs do fuit with mine.
Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1.

What fay you now? What comfort have we now?
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more.

Richard II. A. 3, S. 2.

None of you will bid the winter come,

To thruft his icy fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their courfe
Through my burn'd bofom; nor intreat the north,
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. King John, A. 5, S. 7.
Is this your comfort?

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady?
A woman loft among ye, laugh'd at, fcorn'd?
I will not with ye half my miferies,

I have more charity.

Henry VIII. A. 3, S. 1.
O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ❜st
There is another comfort than this world,
That thou neglect me not, with that opinion
That I am touch'd with madness.

Measure for Measure, A. 5, S. 1.
Think with thyself,

How more unfortunate than all living women

Are we come hither: fince that thy fight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts,

Conftrains them weep, and shake with fear and forrow,
Making the mother, wife, and child, to fee

The fon, the husband, and the father tearing
His country's bowels out. Coriolanus, A. 5, S. 3.
To apprehend thus,
Draws us a profit from all things we fee:

And

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