She wifh'di.

That heaven had made her fuch a man: fhe thank'd

me:

And bad me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I fhould but teach him how to tell my ftory,
And that would woo her.

Othello, A. 1, S. 3.

Good my complexion! doft thou think, though
I am caparifon'd like a man, I have a doublet and
hofe in my difpofition? As you like it, A. 3, S. 2.
Men should be what they feem;
Or, thofe that be not, would they might feem none!
Othello, A. 3, S. 3.

He was a man, take him for all in all,
I fhall not look upon his like again.

Hamlet, A. 1, S. 2.

O mafters! if I were difpos'd to ftir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I fhould do Brutus wrong, and Caffius wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable men :
I will not do them wrong; I rather choose

1 Good my complexion!] This is a mode of expreffion, Mr. Theobald fays, which he cannot reconcile to common fenfe. Like enough; and fo too the Oxford editor. But the meaning is, hold good my complexion, i. e. let me not blufh. WARBURTON.

Dr. Warburton's explanation may be juft, but as he gives no example of fuch a meaning affixed to the words in question, we are ftill at liberty to fufpend our faith, till fome luckier critic fhall decide. All I can add is, that paint for the face was in Shakespeare's time called complexion. Shakespeare likewife ufes complexion for difpofition. STEEVENS,

I believe we fhould read,

"Good! cry complexion!"

Celia fays, "wonderful, wonderful, out of all cry;" to this Rofalind makes anfwer, "then cry complexion," . e. fay it is my temperament, my conftitution; for though I am caparisoned like a man, I have not the manners, the difpofition of one.

2

A. B

To

To wrong the dead, to wrong myfelf, and you,
Than I will wrong fuch honourable men.

Julius Cæfar, A. 3, S. 2.

O what men dare do! what men may do! what
Men daily do! not knowing what they do!

Much ado about nothing, A. 4, S. I.

Goodman Verges, fir, fpeaks a little of the matter: an old man, fir, and his wits are not fo blunt, as, God help, I would defire they were.

Much ado about nothing, A. 3, S. 5.

Thy fall hath left a kind of blot,

To mark the full-fraught man the best endu❜d,
With fome fufpicion. I will weep for thee;
For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like
Another fall of man.

Henry V. A. 2, S. 2.

Thou haft fo wrong'd my innocent child and me,
That I am forc'd to lay my reverence by;
And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days,
Do challenge thee to tryal of a man.

Much ado about nothing, A. 5, S. 1.

Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. Much ado about nothing, A. 3, S. 5.

Thou trembleft; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even fuch a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, fo dead in look, fo woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd.

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

My lord of York, it better fhew'd with you,

When that your flock, affembled by the bell,
Encircled you, to hear with reverence
Your expofition on the holy text;

Than now to see you here an iron man,

Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum.

Henry IV. P. 2, A. 4, S. 2.

There is a history in all men's lives,

Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd;
The which obferv'd, a man may prophefy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life. Henry IV. P. 2, A. 3, S. 1.

Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek-headed men, and fuch as fleep o' nights:
Yon Caffius has a lean and hungry look;

He thinks too much: fuch men are dangerous.

Julius Cæfar, A. 1, S. 2.

These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing, Will make him fly an ordinary pitch;

Who else would foar above the view of men,

And keep us all in fervile fearfulness.

Julius Cæfar, A. 1, S. 1.

Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man

Most like this dreadful night;

That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars
As doth the lion in the capitol :

A man no mightier than thyself, or me,
In perfonal action; yet prodigious grown,
And fearful, as thefe ftrange eruptions are.

Julius Cæfar, A. 1, S. 3.

This was the noblest Roman of them all:
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix'd in him, that nature might stand up,
And fay to all the world, This was a man!

Julius Cæfar, A. 5, S. 5.

You are not wood, you are not ftones, but men ;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cæfar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad:

'Tis

'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; For if you should, O, what would come of it!

Julius Cæfar, A. 3, S. 2.

Thrift is bleffing, if men fteal it not.

Merchant of Venice, A. 1, S. 3.

God made him, and therefore let him pafs for a Merchant of Venice, A. 1, S. 2.

inan.

There are a fort of men, whose visages

Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who fhould fay, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!

Merchant of Venice, A. 1, S. 1.

Ships are but boards, failors but men: there be land rats, and water rats, water thieves, and land thieves; I mean, pirates; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks.

Merchant of Venice, A. 1, S. 3.

I'll hold thee any wager

When we are both apparell'd like young men,
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two,

And wear my dagger with the braver grace.

Merchant of Venice, A. 3, S. 4.

France friend with England! what becomes of me?
Fellow, begone; I cannot brook thy fight;
This news hath made thee a moft ugly man.

King John, A. 3, S. 1.

Seldom, when

The steeled gaoler is the friend of men.

Measure for Measure, A. 4, S. 2.

Is there any man has rebus'd your worship?

Taming of the Shrew, A. 1, S. z.

MANNER S.

I do prefume, fir, that you are not fallen
From the report that goes upon your goodness;
And therefore, goaded with most sharp occafions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to

The ufe of your own virtues.

All's well that ends well, A. 5, S. I,
Harth rage,

Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain:
The leaft of which, haunting a nobleman,
Lofeth men's hearts.

Henry IV. P. ï, A. 3, S. 1.
Ungracious wretch,

Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves,
Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my fight.

Twelfth Night, A. 4, S. 1, - In companions

That do converfe and waste the time together,
Whofe fouls do bear an equal yoke of love,
There muft needs be a like proportion
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit.

Merchant of Venice, A. 3, S. 4.

Alack, what heinous fin is it in me,
To be ashamed to be my father's child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners.

Merchant of Venice, A. 2, S. 3,

Is there any man has rebus'd your worship?] What is the meaning of rebus'd? or is it a falfe print for abus'd?

TYRWHIT.

"Rebus'd your worship." Has a rebus been made on your worship?-has any wit been exercised on you?

A. B.

MAR.