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Duft was thrown upon his facred head;
Which with fuch gentle forrow he fhook off,-
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,—

That had not God, for fome ftrong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they muft perforce have melted.

Richard II. A. 5, S. 2.

Gnarling Sorrow hath lefs power to bite

The man that mocks at it,

and fets it light.

Richard II. A. 1, S. 3.

The apprehenfion of the good

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell Sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the fore.

Richard II. A. 1, S. 3.

I hardly yet have learn'd

To infinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee :
Give Sorrow leave a while to tutor me
To this fubmiffion.

Richard II. A. 4, S. 1.

Now will canker Sorrow eat my bud,

And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost;

As dim and meagre as an ague's fit.

King John, A. 3, S. 4.

Oh, if thou teach me to believe this forrow,
Teach thou this forrow how to make me die;
And let belief and life encounter fo,
As doth the fury of two desperate men,
Which in the very meeting, fall, and die.

King John, A. 3, S. 1.

If fuch a one will fimile, and ftroke his beard;
And Sorrow, wag! cry; hem, when he should

1

groan;

Patch

1 If fuch a one will smile, and ftroke his beard; And Sorrow, wag! cry hem when he should groan.] Such is the reading of all the copies; and on this very difficult paffage

the

Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk With candle-wafters; bring him yet to me,

And I of him will gather patience.

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

SO U L.

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my foul,

But I do love thee! and when I love thee not,

Chaos is come again.

Othello, A. 3, S. 3.

--I wonder in my foul,

What you could ask me, that I fhould deny,

Or ftand fo mammering on. What! Michael Caffio, That came a wooing with you; and fo many a time, When I have fpoke of you difpraisingly,

Hath ta'en your part: to have fo much to do

To bring him in!

Othello, A. 3, S. 3.

Befhrew me much Emilia, I was (unhandsome warrior as I am) 1 Arraigning his unkindness with my foul; But now I find I had fuborn'd the witness, And he's indited falfely.

Othello, A. 3, S. 4.

the commentators have tried their critical skill, but without fuccefs. I cannot discover any meaning in the lines as they at present stand, and shall therefore propose a trifling alteration. I read,

"Call Sorrow hag! cry hem when he fhould groan.

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A. B.

I (unbandfome warrior as I am)] How this came to be fo blundered, I cannot conceive. It is plain Shakespeare wrote,

"Unhandsome wrangler as I am." WARBURTON. Unhandfome warrior, is evidently unfair affailant.

JOHNSON. "Unhandfome warrior" fhould furely be "unhandfome "lawyer," or pleader. The context will fufficiently warrant this reading. Lawyer and warrior being fomewhat alike in found, the mistake was made in tranfcribing. Cc

A. B.

Oh

Oh place! oh form! How often doft thou with thy ease, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wifer fouls To thy false seeming !

Measure for Measure, A. 2, S. 4. Now my foul hath elbow-room, It would not out at windows, nor at doors. There is fo hot a fummer in my bofom, That all my bowels crumble up to duft.

S.7.

King John, A. 5, S. 7.

What fhall I fay to thee, lord Scroop; thou cruel,
Ingrateful, favage, and inhuman creature!
Thou, that didnt bear the key of all my counfels,
That knew'ft the very bottom of my foul,
That almost might'ft have coin'd me into gold,
Would't thou have practis'd on me for thy use?
Henry V. A. 2, S. 2

It is too late; the life of all his blood

Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which fome fuppofe the foul's frail dwelling-house) Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,

Foretell the ending of mortality.

King John, A. 5, S. 7.

Impartial are our eyes and ears:

Were he my brother; nay, my kingdom's heir;
Now by my fceptre's awe I make a vow,
Such neighbour nearnefs to our facred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unftooping firmnefs of my upright foul.

Richard II. A. 1, S. 1.

God forgive the fin of all those fouls,

That to their everlasting refidence,
Before the dew of ev'ning fall, fhall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!

King John, A. 2, S. 1.

Thy

Thy currifh fpirit

Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human flaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell foul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
Infus'd itself in thee. Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1.

All the fouls that were, were forfeit once; And he that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy.

Meafure for Measure, A. 2, S, 2. Oh, how this difcord doth afflict my foul!— Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold My fighs and tears, and will not once relent? Who should be pitiful, if you be not? Or who should study to prefer a peace, If holy churchmen take delight in broils?

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

My foul akes,

To know, when two authorities are up,
Neither fupreme, how foon confufion
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take
The one by the other.

Coriolanus, A. 3, S. 1.

Believe this of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut; the foul of this man is his clothes: trust him not in matter of heavy confequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures.

All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. 5.

O Lord, that lend'st me life,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
For thou haft given me, in this beauteous face,
A world of earthly bleffings to my foul,
If fympathy of love unite our thoughts.

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

Go, tread the path that thou fhalt ne'er return,
Simple, plain Clarence!-I do love thee fo,
Cc 2

That

That I will fhortly fend thy foul to heaven,
If heaven will take the prefent at our hands.
Richard III. A. 1, S. 1.

Avaunt, thou dreadful minifter of hell!
Thou hadft but power over his mortal body,
His foul thou canft not have.

Richard III. A. 1, S. 2.

The worm of confcience ftill be-gnaw thy foul!
Thy friends fufpect for traitors while thou liv'ft,
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
No fleep clofe up that deadly eye of thine,
Unless it be while fome tormenting dream
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!

Richard III. A. 1, S. 3.

I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my foul is any jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to-night;
I thank my God for
my humility.

Richard III. A. 2, S. 1. Remember this,—

God, and our good caufe, fight upon our fide;
The prayers of holy faints, and wronged fouls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, ftand before our faces.
Richard III. A. 5, S. 3.

I will from henceforth rather be myself,

Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition; Which hath been fmooth as oil, foft as young down, And therefore loft that title of respect,

Which the proud foul ne'er pays, but to the proud. Henry IV. P. 1, A. 1, S. 3.

This vifitation

Is but to whet thy almoft blunted purpose.
But, look! amazement on thy mother fits:
O, step between her and her fighting foul;
Conceit in weakest bodies ftrongest works.

Hamlet, A. 3, S. 4.

Uncivil

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