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And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Hamlet, A. 1, S. 3.
Rightly, to be great
A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good li-
Troilus and Creffida, A. 3, S. 3. What is honour? A word. What is that word, honour? Air. A trim reckoning !-Who hath it? He that dy'd o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it: therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechifm. Henry IV. P. 1, A. 5, S, I.
Take the instant way,
Troilus and Cressida, A. 3, S. 3.
Speak to me, son:
And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt
Men, like butterflies,
Troilus and Cresida, A. 3, S. 3.
I have heard you say, Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, l the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me, In peace, what each of them by the other lose, That they combine not there?
Coriolanus, A. 3, S. 2. -- Whiles the honourable captain there Drops bloody sweat froin his war-wearied limbs, And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
Henry VI. P. I, A. 4, S. 4. Mine honour keeps the weather of my
fate': Life every man holds dear; but the dear man Holds honour far more precious-dear than life.
Troilus and Cressida, A. 5, S. 3. Have patience, fir; O, let it not be fo; Herein you war against your reputation, And draw within the compass of suspect The unviolated honour of your wife. Comedy of Errors, A.
S. 1. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright Honour froin the pale-fac'd moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned Honour by the locks. Henry IV. P. 1, A. 1, S. 3.
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current :
Richard III. A. I, S. 3.
All's well that ends well, A. 3, S. 2.
He took upon him,
Henry VIII. A. 1, $. 1.
All's well that ends well, A. 1, S. 2.
That is honour's scorn,
All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. 3.
the file.] That is, the list.
JOHNSON Rather the company. We now fay, a file of soldiers. By « makes up the file," the poet means, not only that Wolsey gave in the naines of the gentry who were to attend on the King, but that he actually appointed them to such attendance.
I'll to the king,
Henry VIII. A. 1, S. 1.
All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. 3. Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently : For, let the gods so speed me, as I love The name of honour inore than I fear death.
Julius Cæsar, A. I, S. 2.
Let higher Italy
All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. 1.
Honours best thrive,
All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. 3.
She is young, wise, fair ; In these to nature she's immediate heir; And these breed honour.
All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. 3. Hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour
- from a mouth of honour.) I will crush this base-born fellow by the due influence of my rank, or say that alì distinction of persons is at an end.
Johnson. By " a mouth of honour,” I would rather understand, a plain and honourable recital af facts--and not that Buckingham was boasting of his rank.
Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power,
All's well that ends well, A. 2, S. Io More of his soldiership I know not; excepts in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place there callid Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files. All's well that ends well, A. 4, S. 3.
Manhood and honour Should have hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect Make livers pale, and lustyhood, dejeét.
Troilus and Cressida, A. 2, S. 2.
His honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and, at that time, His tongue obey'd his hand.
All's well that ends well, A.'l, 'S. 2. Well, 'tis no matter ; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No.
Henry IV. P. 1. A.
S. J. By heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what thou
speak’st; Or else thou art fuborn'd again t his honour In hateful practice. - Measure for Measure, A. 5,
S. 1. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate. Soft! who art thou ? Sir Walter Blunt ;-there's honour for you : 'here's no vanity!-I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too : Heaven keep lead out of me!
Henry IV. P. 1, A. 5, S. 3. If Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do come in my way, so: if he do not,-if I come in his, willingly, let him make a carbonado of me.