Hath any honour, but honour by thofe honours Which, when they fall, (as being flipp'ry ftanders) Troilus and Creffida, A. 3. Sc. 7. HUMAN LIFE. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipt them not; and our crimes would defpair, if they were not cherish'd by our virtues. All's Well that Ends Well, A. 4. Sc. 3. HYPOCRISY. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the ferpent under it. Macbeth, A. 1. Sc. 5. IMAGINATION. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact: One fees more devils than vaft hell can hold i Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt. The The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen A Midsummer Night's Dream, A. 5. Sc. 1. INGRATITUD E. Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made. Timon of Athens, A. 2. Sc. 2, There is a kind of character in thy life, As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd, Herself Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. Meafure for Measure, A. 1. เช่ KING S. For within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; As if this flesh, which walls about our life, Bores through his castle-walls, and-farewell king! Richard II. A. 3. -The cease of majesty Śc. 2. Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw Did the king figh, but with a general groan. Hamlet, A. 2. Sc. 3. LABO U R. -Wearinefs Can fnore upon the flint, when refty floth Finds the down pillow hard. Cymbeline, A. 3. Sc. 7. LOVE. O that her hand! In whofe comparison all whites are ink, Hard as the palm of ploughman! Troilus and Creffida, A. 1. Sc. 1. MISTRESS. She is my own; And I as rich in having such a jewel, MOONLIGHT. Sit, Feffica: look how the floor of heaven Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims; Such harmony is in immortal sounds! But But whilft this muddy vefture of decay The Merchant of Venice, A. 5. Sc. I. MORTALITY. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice |