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MENTAL AGONY.

HAD it pleas'd heaven
To try me with affliction; had he rain'd
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;

Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience: but (alas!) to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn

To point his slow unmoving finger at,-
O! O!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in!-turn thy complexion there!

Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin; Ay, there, look grim as hell!

OTHELLO, A. 4, s. 2.

MERCY NOBILITY'S TRUE BADGE. STAY, Roman brethren;-Gracious conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, A mother's tears in passion for her son: And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee, O, think my son to be as dear to me. Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome, To beautify thy triumphs, and return, Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke; But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets, For valiant doings in their country's cause?

O! if to fight for king and common weal
Were piety in thine, it is in these.
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood:
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge;
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son.

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 1, s. 2.

MINCE NOT THE TRUTH.

SPEAK to me home, mince not the general tongue; Name Cleopatra as she's called in Rome:

Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults

With such full license, as both truth and malice Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,

When our quick winds lie still; and our ills told us,

Is as our earing.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, s. 2.

MIND IN MANNER.

'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait;
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 4, s. 5.

MIND IN VOICE.

THE shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor, More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man's.

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, s. 6.

MIND, LIKE MATTER, EVER
HEAVING.

EQUALITY of two domestick powers

Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to strength,

Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey, Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace

Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge By any desperate change.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 1, s. 3.

MIND SHOULD ASSIMILATE BEFORE MATTER.

KING. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which

I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off In differences so mighty: If she be

All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislik'st,
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislik'st
Of virtue for the name: but do not so:

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed:
Where great additions swell, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour: good alone
Is good without a name; vileness is so :
The property by what it is should go,
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair;
In these to nature she's immediate heir;

And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn,
Which challenges itself as honour's born,
And is not like the sire: Honours best thrive,
When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave,
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave,
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb,

Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb
Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said?
If thou canst like this creature as a maid,
I can create the rest: virtue, and she,

Is her own dower; honour, and wealth, from me. BERTRAM. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.

KING. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou should'st
strive to choose.

HELENA. That you are well restor❜d, my lord,
I am glad;

Let the rest go.

KING. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat,

I must produce my power: Here, take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, That dost in vile misprision shackle up

My love, and her desert; that canst not dream, We, poizing us in her defective scale,

Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know,

It is in us to plant thine honour, where

We please to have it grow: Check thy contempt: Obey our will, which travails in thy good: Believe not thy disdain, but presently

Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, Which both thy duty owes, and our power claims;

Or I will throw thee from my care for ever,

Into the staggers, and the careless lapse

Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate,

Loosing upon thee in the name of justice,
Without all terms of pity: Speak! thine answer!
BER. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit
My fancy to your eyes: When I consider,
What great creation, and what dole of honour,
Flies where you bid it, I find, that she, which
late

Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now
The praised of the king; who, so ennobled,
Is, as 'twere, born so.

KING.

Take her by the hand, And tell her, she is thine: to whom I promise A counterpoize; if not to thy estate,

A balance more replete.

upon

I take her hand.

BER. KING. king, Smile this contráct; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-borne brief, And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, Thy love's to me religious; else, does err.

Good fortune, and the favour of the

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, A. 2, s. 3.

MISFORTUNE OF TRUE LOVE. CRESSID, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, That the blest gods-as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities,-take thee from

me.

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