PRINCESS.

Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues.

ROSALINE.

A merrier man,

Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.

His

Act 2, Sc. 1, l. 15.

eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

KING.

Act 2, Sc. 1, l. 67.

Thy own wish wish I thee in every place.

ARMADO.

Sweet smoke of rhetoric!

BIRON.

Act 2, Sc. 1, l. 178.

Act 3, Sc. 1, l. 55.

And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's

whip;

A very beadle to a humorous sigh.

PRINCESS.

Act 3, Sc. 1, l. 155.

Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind.

Act 4, Sc. 1, l. 4.

PRINCESS.

What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? Act 4, Sc. 1, l. 85.

NATHANIEL.

Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book;

He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not
Drunk ink; his intellect is not replenished;
He is only an animal, only sensible in the duller
Act 4, Sc. 2, 1. 24.

parts.

NATHANIEL.

All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without

wonder.

KING.

Act 4, Sc. 2, 1. 103.

queen of queens! how far thou dost excel, No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.

BIRON.

Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 38.

One drunkard loves another of the name.

LONGAVILLE. Sonnet.

Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 47.

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee;
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 57.

LONGAVILLE.

Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is; Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost

shine,

Exhal'st this vapour-vow; in thee it is;

If broken then, it is no fault of mine,
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise,
To lose an oath, to win a paradise?

DUMAIN.

Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove

Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 57.

O, 't is the sun, that maketh all things shine.

BIRON.

Act 4, Sc. 3, l. 243.

O, if the street were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.
Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 273.

BIRON.

For where is any author in the world,

Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye.

BIRON.

Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 307.

And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods

Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.

Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 338.

BIRON.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive;
They are the ground, the books, the academes
That show, contain and nourish all the world,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean
fire.

NATHANIEL.

Act 4, Sc. 3, 1. 345.

I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy.

HOLOFERNES.

Act 5, Sc. 1, l. 1.

He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.

Мотн.

Act 5, Sc. 1, l. 17.

They have been at a great feast of languages, and stol'n the scraps.

ROSALINE.

Act 5, Sc. 1, l. 38.

The blood of youth burns not with such excess, As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

BIRON.

Act 5, Sc. 2, l. 73.

He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares.

ROSALINE.

Act 5, Sc. 2, 1. 219.

I dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have

drink.

Act 5, Sc. 2, l. 273.

BIRON.

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes.

BIRON.

Act 5, Sc. 2, l. 314.

Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.

ROSALINE.

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the
Of him that makes it.

Act 5, Sc. 2, l. 637,

tongue

Act 5, Sc. 2, 1. 748.

You can endure the livery of a nun,
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood,
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;
But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,
Than that which withering on the virgin thorn
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Act 1, Sc. 1, l. 71.

LYSANDER.

Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,