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sleeping, and waking, o, defend me still !-RICHM. V., 3.
() coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!K. Rich. V., 3.
Pity, that the eagle should be mew'd, while kites and buzzards prey at liberty.—Hast. I., 1.
Princes have but their titles for their glories, an outward honour for an inward toil; and, for unfelt imagi. nations, they often feel a world of restless cares; so that, between their titles, and low name, there's nothing differs but the outward fame.-BRAK. I., 4.
Pitchers have ears.-Q. ELız. II., 4.
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. --BRAK. I., 4.
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.YORK, II., 4.
Short summers lightly have a forward spring.–Glo. III., 1.
Since you will buckle fortune on my back, to bear her burden, whe’r I will, or no, I must have patience to endure the load.-GLO. III., 7.
The world is grown so bad, that wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch.—Glo. I., 3.
Talkers are no good doers.-1 MURD. I., 3.
Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.CLAR. I., 4.
The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind.-Q. Eliz. II., 4.
The untainted virtue of your years hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit.-GLO. III., 1.
To fly the boar, before the boar pursues, were to incense the boar to follow us, and make pursuit, where he did mean no chase.-Hast. III., 2.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other. A book of prayers on their pillow lay.-TyR. IV., 3.
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.Rich. V., 2.
The weary sun hath made a golden set, and, by the bright track of his fiery car, gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.—Rich. V., 3.
The early village cock hath twice done salutation to the morn.-RAT. V., 3.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won ?-Glo. I., 2.
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? why wither not the leaves, that want their sap ?-Q.
Woe to that land, that's govern’d by a child !-3 CIT.
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; when the sun sets, who doth not look for night?—3 Cit. II., 3.
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. Buck, V., 1.
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, but look'd not on the poison of their hearts.—GLO. III., 1.
Are ye fantastical, or that indeed which outwardly ye shew ?-BAN. Act I., Scene 3.
Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act and valour, as thou art in desire ?-LADY M. I., 7.
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well. --MACB. III., 2.
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell : though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, yet grace must still look so.
.-MAL. IV., 3.
A great perturbation in nature ! to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching.– Doct. V., 1.
But screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail.-LADY M. I., 7.
By the clock, 'tis day, and yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp.-Rosse, II., 4.
Better be with the dead, whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace.—Macb. III., 2.
Boundless intemperance in nature is a tyranny.MacD. IV., 3.
Come what come may ; time and the hour runs through the roughest day.-Macb. I., 3.
Come, come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; and fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full of direst cruelty.LADY M. I., 5.
Can such things be, and overcome us like a summer's cloud, without our special wonder ?-MACB. III., 4.
Cruel are the times, when we are traitors, and do not know ourselves; when we hold rumour from what we fear; yet know not what we fear.—Rosse, IV., 2.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd ; pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; raze out the written troubles of the brain ; and, with some sweet oblivious antidote, cleanse the stuff d bosom of that perilous stuff, which weighs upon the heart ?-Macb. V., 3.
God's benison go with you; and with those that would make good of bad, and friends of foes !-Old M. II., 4.
Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak, whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. MAL. IV., 3.
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour to make thee full of growing.–Dun. I., 4.
I fear thy nature ; it is too full o' the milk of human kindness, to catch the nearest way.--LADY M. I., 5.
If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly.-MACB. I., 7.
I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but