3d a MARRIAGE. O curfe of marriage, That we can call thefe delicate creatures ours, Othello, A. 3, S. 3. Marriage is a matter of more worth, f Henry VI. P.1, A. 5, S. 6. They'll fit by the fire, and prefume to know What's done i' the capitol: who's like to rise, Who thrives, and who declines: fide factions, and give out Conjectural marriages; making parties ftrong," Coriolanus, A. 1, S. 1. I may chance have fome odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have rail'd fo long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his age. Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3. MELANCHOLY. Sweet recreation barr'd what doth enfue, ice, But moody and dull melancholy, T 4. And, 1 Kinsman to grim and comfortless defpair.] Shakespeare could never make melancholy a male in this line, and a female in the And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 1 Comedy of Errors, A. 5, S. 1. It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many. fimples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the fundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a moft humorous fadness. As you like it, A. like it, A. 4, S. 1. He will look upon his boot, and fing; mend the ruff, and fing; ask questions, and fing; pick his teeth, and fing: I know a man that had this trick of melancholy, fold a goodly manor for a fong. S.2. L All's well that ends well, A. 3, S. 2. Why haft thou loft the fresh blood in thy cheeks; And given my treasures, and my rights of thee To thick-ey'd mufing, and curs'd melancholy? Henry IV. P. 1, A. 2, S. 3. And, with a green and yellow melancholy, Smiling at grief. Twelfth Night, A. 2, S. 4. O' fovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poifonous damp of night difpunge upon me; May hang no longer on me. O, melancholy! Antony and Cleopatra, A. 4, S. 9. Who ever yet could found thy bottom? find Cymbeline, A. 4, S. 2. next. T yas the foolish infertion of the firft editors. I have, therefe, put it into hooks as fpurious WARBURTON. All the commentators have objected to "kinfman," and juftly why then fhould we not read kindred? A. B. MEMORY. MEMORY. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory, Two Gentlemen of Verona, A. 5, S. 3. Nay, then let the devil wear black, for I'll have a fuit of fables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a great man's memory may out-live his life half a year. But, by'r lady, he muft build churches then. Hamlet, A. 3, S. 2. MERCY. Mercy is above this fcepter'd fway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; It is an attribute to God himself. Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1. How fhalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none? Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1. Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the vifage of offence? And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force,- Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up ;. Hamlet, A. 3> S. 3. Upon The quality of mercy is not ftrain'd; Upon the place beneath: it is twice bleffed; Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. 1. Earthly power doth fhew likeft God's, Merchant of Venice, A. 4, S. i. Mercy is not itself, that oft looks fo; Measure for Measure, A. 2, S. 1. And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Is nothing kin to foul redemption. Meafure for Measure, A. 2, S. 4. Against all fense you do importune her: Meafure for Measure, A. 5, S. 1. Stain not thy tomb with blood: Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. Titus Andronicus, A. 1, S. 2. The mercy, that was quick in us but late, Henry V. A. 2, S. 2. If I begin the battery once again, I will not leave the half-atchiev'd Harfleur, The gates of mercy fhall be all shut up; And S. 3• And the flesh'd foldier,-rough and hard of heart, Measure for Measure, A. 4, S. 2. MERIT, MERIT S. To cozen fortune, and be honourable Without the stamp of merit? Merchant of Venice, A. 2, S. 9. To make the fervice greater than the God; Troilus and Creffida, A. 2, S. 2. So turns the every man the wrong fide out; Much ado about nothing, A. 3, S. 1. Be it known, that we, the greatest, are misthought Are therefore to be pitied. Antony and Cleopatra, A. 5, S. 2. MERRIMENT. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your fongs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to |