Let the world slide. The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1. I'll not budge an inch. As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en; Ibid. Induc. Sc. 2. Act i. Sc. 1. Why, nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal. Tush tush! fear boys with bugs. And do as adversaries do in law, Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. Ibid. Act i. Sc. 2. Ibid. Ibid. Who wooed in haste and means to wed at leisure. Act iii. Sc. 2. Act iv. Sc. 1. My cake is dough. Act v. Sc. 1. And thereby hangs a tale.1 A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty. Act v. Sc. 2. Such duty as the subject owes the prince, "T were all one That I should love a bright particular star Ibid. All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1. The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. Ibid. 1 Othello, Act iii. Sc. 1; Merry Wives of Windsor, Act i. Sc. 4; As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 7. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven. All's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1. Service is no heritage. He must needs go that the devil drives. My friends were poor but honest. Oft expectation fails and most oft there Act i. Sc. 3. Ibid. Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 1. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. Act ii. Sc. 2. From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, Act ii. Sc. 3. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and Ibid. All impediments in fancy's course The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. If music be the food of love, play on; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,1 Stealing and giving odour! Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1. 1 'Like the sweet south,' Dyce and Singer. Ibid. Is it a world to hide virtues in? 'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white If you will lead these graces to the grave Halloo your name to the reverberate hills Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. Act i. Sc. 5. Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 3. Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. Ibid. He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. Ibid. Sir To. Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too. These most brisk and giddy-paced times. Let still the woman take Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 4. An elder than herself: so wears she to him, Ibid. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent. Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4. The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. Duke. And what's her history? Ibid. Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, I am all the daughters of my father's house, Ibid. Ibid. An you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. Act ii. Sc. 5. Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. The trick of singularity. Ibid. Ibid. O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful Act iii. Sc. 1. Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. Ibid. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. This is very midsummer madness. Act iii. Sc. 2. Act iii. Sc. 4. If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4. More matter for a May morning. Ibid. Ibid. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law. An I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld have challenged him. Ibid.1 Out of my lean and low ability Ibid.1 As the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, That that is is. Act iv. Sc. 2. Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? Mal. That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion? Mal. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion. Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. For the rain it raineth every day. What's gone and what's past help Ibid. Act v. Sc. 1. Ibid. Should be past grief. The Winter's Tale. Act iii. Sc. 2. A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. A merry heart goes all the day, 1 Act iii. Sc. 5, Dyce. Act iv. Sc. 3.2 2 Act iv. Sc. 2, Dyce, Knight, Singer, Staunton, White. Ibid. |