Imatges de pàgina

Know you not, The fire, that mounts the liquor 'till it run o'er, In seeming to augment it, wastes it?.

Henry VIII. A. I, S, I, Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ?

Richard II. A. 1, S, 3: : FL A T T E R E R. A thousand flatterers fit within thy crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; And yet, incaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.

Richard II. A. 2, S. 1,

He loves to hear,
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees,
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers,
But, when I tell him, he hates flatterers,
He says, he does; being then most flattered.

Julius Cæfar, A. 2, S. 1.
Here feel we but the icy fang,
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no flattery.

As you like it, A. 2, S. 1. The people cry, you mock’d them; and, of late, When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd; Scandal'd the suppliants for the people; call’d them Time-pleasers, flatrerers, foes to nobleness.

Coriolanus, A. 3, S. 1.

When drums and trumpets shall I'the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be



Made of all false-fac'd soothing! When steel

grows Soft as the parasite's filk, let him be made A coverture for the wars! Coriolanus, A. 1, S.

Why this spade ? this place? This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft ; Hug their diseas'd perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Timon of Athens, A. 4, S. 3.

· Hence! be gone!-If thou hadît not been born the worst of men, Thou hadft been a knave and flatterer.

Timon of Athens, A. 4, S. 3.

- Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper".
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee.

Timon of Athens, A. 4, S. 3.

F L E E T.

Do but think,
You stand upon the rivage, and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur.

Henry V. A. 3, Chorus.

the cunning of a carper.) For the philosophy of a cynic, of which sect Apemantus was.

WARBURTON. The cunning of a carper, is the insidious art of a critic. Shame not these woods, says Apemantus, by coming here to find fault. There is no apparent reason why Apemantus (according to Dr. Warburton's explanation) should ridicule his own fect.

STEEVENS. There is little reason to imagine that Apemantus, by calling himself a carper, had any intention of ridiculing his sect. He is proud of his cynical manners; and had faid immediately before to Timon, “thou dost affect my manners.” By cunning of a Carper, he undoubtedly means, the fubtilty and severity of a cynic.

A. B.

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-- Take thou the pound of flesh; But, in the cutting it, if thou doft shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods Are by the laws of Venice, confiscate Unto the state of Venice.

Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1. You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive Three thousand ducats : I'll not answer that: But, say, it is my humour; is it answer'd?

Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. I. This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; The words expressly are a pound of flesh : Then take thy bond. Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1.

Here Will I set up my everlasting rest; And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh.-Eyes look your last! Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss.

Romeo and Juliet, A. 5, S. Hate all, curse all ; shew charity to none; But let the familh'd flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs What thou deny'st to men.

Timon of Athens, A. 4, S. 4. Lay her i' the earth And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring !- I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministring angel shall my sister be, When thou lieft howling. Hamlet, A. 5, S. 1.

To die ;—to sleep ;No more?--and, by a sleep, to say we end The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks




That flesh is heir to,-'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be with’d.

Hamlet, A. 3,

But we all are men,
In our own natures frail; and capable
Of our flesh, few are angels. Henry VIII. A. 5)

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This man's brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragick volume :
So looks the strand, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. I, S. 1.


The ruddock would, With charitable bill (O bill, fore-lhaming Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie Without a monument !) bring thee all this; Yea, and furr’d moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse. Cymbeline, A. 4, S. 2. With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy fad grave: thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to Nander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath. Cymbeline, A.

4, S. 2.

But we all are men,
In our own natures frail; and capable

Of our fles, few are angels. ] If this passage means any thing, it may mean, few are perfect while they remain in their mortal capacity.

Steevens. May not Shakespeare have written frail and culpable? The change is easy. I would read and point thus :

We all are men,
In our own natures frail and culpable :
Of our flesh few are angels.

A. B.

O Pro

O Proserpina,
For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall
From Dis’s waggon! daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty.

Winter's Tale, A. 4, S.

The fairest flowers o'the season Are our carnations, and streak'd gilly-flowers, Which some call, nature's bastards ; of that kind Our rustick garden's barren.

Winter's Tale, A. 4, S. 3.

, Like the bee tolling from every flower The virtuous sweets'. Henry IV. P. 2, A. 4, S. 4.


FO E, FOE S. Be advis'd; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do finge yourself: We may out-run, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Henry VIII. A. 1, S. 1.

Like a jolly troop of huntsmen come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, Dy’d in the dying Naughter of their foes.

King John, A, 2, S. 2. Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numb’ring our Ave-Maries with our beads ? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?

Henry VI. P. 3, A. 2, S. 1.

I like the bee tolling from every flower

The virtuous fweets.] The reading of the quarto is tolling. The folio reads calling. Tolling is taking toll. STEEVENS.

* Tolling" is not in this place taking toll, or tribute, but fimply taking away. The sense is the same as culling. A. B.


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