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'Tis death to me, to be at enmity;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.-
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;-
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ;-
Of you, lord Rivers,—and, lord Grey, of you,
That all without desert have frown'd on me ;-
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all,
I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my soul is any jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to-night;
I thank my God for my humility.

K. RICHARD III., A. 2, s. 1.

IDLERS OF TIME.
A VERY little thief of occasion will rob

you

of a great deal of patience.

CORIOLANUS, A. 2, s. 1.

INNOCENCE OF CHILDHOOD. HERMIONE. Was not

my

lord the verier wag o'the two ? POLIXENES. We were as twinn'd lambs, that

did frisk i’the sun, And bleat the one at the other : What we

chang'd Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd That any did : Had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should have answer'd

heaven

Boldly, Not guilty ; the imposition clear’d,
Hereditary ours.
HER.

By this we gather,
You have tripp'd since.
Por.

O my most sacred lady,
Temptations have since then been born to us: for
In those unfledg’d days was my wife a girl ;
Your precious self had then not cross’d the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.
HER.

Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclusion; lest you say,
Your
queen

and I are devils : Yet, go on; The offences we have made you do, we'll answer; If

you first sinn'd with us, and that with us You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not With

any
but with us.

WINTER'S TALE, A. 1, s. 2.

JUDGMENT WAITS FOR

REPENTANCE. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile : Filths savour but themselves. What have you

done ? Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform’d? A father, and a gracious aged man, Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would

lick, Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you

madded. Could my good brother suffer

you

to do it ? A man, a prince, by him so benefited ? If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,

'Twill come,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.

KING LEAR, A. 4, s. 2.

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INFIRMITIES OF CHARACTER

SHOULD BE BORNE WITH. MORTIMER. Fye, cousin Percy! how you cross my

father! HOTSPUR. I cannot choose: sometimes he

angers me, With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant, Of the dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies ; And of a dragon and a finless fish, A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven, A couching lion, and a ramping cat, And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff, As puts me from

my

faith. I tell you what,He held me, but last night, at least nine hours, In reckoning up the several devils' names, That were his lackeys: I cried, humph,--and

well,--go to,But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious As is a tir'd horse, a railing wife; Worse than a smoky house :-I had rather live With cheese and garlick, in a windmill, far, Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me, In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;

Мокт Exceedingly well read, and profited In strange concealments; valiant as a lion, And wondrous affable; and as bountiful As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin ?

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He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humour; 'faith, he does ;
I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof;
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.
WORCESTER. In faith, my lord, you are too

wilful-blame;
And since your coming hither, have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage,

blood, (And that's the dearest grace it renders you,) Ņet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, want of government, Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain : The least of which, haunting a nobleman, Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain Upon the beauty of all parts besides, Beguiling them of commendation. Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be

I your speed! Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

K. HENRY IV., PART 1., A. 3, s. 1.

HEAVEN HATH A HAND IN THESE

EVENTS. DUCHESS. My lord, you told me, you would

tell the rest, When weeping made you break the story off Of our two cousins coming into London.

Yовк. Where did I leave ?

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Duch.
At that sad stop, my lord,

,
Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows’

tops,
Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head.
YORK. Then, as I said, the duke, great

Bolingbroke,
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,-
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course,
While all tongues cried—God save thee, Boling-

broke!
You would have thought the very windows spake,
So many greedy looks of young and old
Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage; and that all the walls,
With painted imag’ry, had said at once, -
Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke !
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower than bis proud steed's neck,
Bespake them thus,- I thank you, countrymen :
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he

the while ?
YORK. As in a theatre, the eyes

of

men,
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious:
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's

eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save

him ;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,—
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,–

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