FLATTERY,-continued.

I must prevent thee, Cimber.
These couchings, and these lowly courtesies,
Might fire the blood of ordinary mer,
And turn pre-ordinance, and first decree,
Into the law of children. Be not fond,
To think that Cæsar bears such rebel blood,

That will be thaw'd from the true quality,

With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words,
Low-crooked curt'sies, and base spaniel fawning. J.C. iii. 1.
For the love of grace,

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul.

Nay, do not think I flatter:'

For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,

H. iii. 4.

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fawning.

'Tis holy sport to be a little vain

When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.

Sweet poison for the age's tooth.

They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder;

As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast.

FOLLOWERS.

I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly followed.

H. iii. 2.

C. E. iii. 2.

K. J. i. 1.

T. C. iii. 3.

O. i. 1.

FOOL.

Why, thou silly gentleman!

O. i. 3.

Let the doors be shut upon him; that he may play the fool nowhere but in his own house.

H. iii. 1.

Fools on both sides!

T. C. i. 1.

Alas, poor fool! how have they baffled thee!

T. N. v. 1.

I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.

This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit:

He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;

And, like the haggard, check at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practice,

L. L. v. 2.

FOOL,-continued.

As full of labour as a wise man's art:

For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit;

But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. T. N. iii 1.
A fool, a fool!-I met a fool i' the forest,

A motley fool;-a miserable world!

As I do live by food, I met a fool;

Who laid him down, and bask'd him in the sun,

And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,

In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
I am sprighted with a fool.

FOOLERY.

A. Y. ii. 7.

Cym. ii. 3.

Foolery, Sir, does walk about the orb, like the sun; it shines every where.

Observe him for the love of mockery.

What folly I commit, I dedicate to you.

FOOLING.

FOP.

I do not like this fooling.

They fool me to the top of my bent.

T. N. iii. 1.

T. N. ii. 5.
T.C. iii. 2.

T. C. v. 2.

H. iii. 2.

Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. T. N. ii. 3.

The soul of this man is in his clothes.

FOREIGN.

Whose manners still our tardy apish nation,
Limps after, in base imitation.

FORBEARANCE (See STRENGTH).

FOREBODING.

Yet, again, methinks,

Is coming toward me.

Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,

A heavy summons lies like lead upon me.

I have an ill-divining soul:

Methinks I see thee now thou art below,

As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:

A. W. ii. 5.

R. II. ii. 1.

R. II. ii. 2.

M. ii. 1.

Either my eye-sight fails, or thou look'st pale. R. J iii. 5.

The skies look grimly,

And threaten present blusters. In my conscience,
The heavens with that we have in hand are angry,
And frown upon us.

For my mind misgives,

Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date

W. T. iii. 3.

FOREBODING,-continued.

With this night's revels; and expire the term
Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast,
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.

In what particular thought to work, I know not;
But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion,
This bodes some strange eruption to our state.
FORE-DOOM.

R. J. i. 4.

H. i. 1.

M. iii. 2.

His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's summons,
The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums,

Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.

M. iii. 2.

M. ii. 3

T. i. 2

Even to a full disgrace.

FORGIVENESS.

The rarer action is

In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend

Not a frown further.

Kneel not to me;

The power that I have on you, is to spare you;
The malice toward you, to forgive you: Live,

And deal with others better.

- Then I'll look up ;•

C. v. 3.

T. v. 1.

Cym. v. 5.

My fault is past. But, 0, what form of prayer

Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!-
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd

FORGIVENESS,-continued.

Of those effects for which I did the murder,-
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence?
His great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion do we bury
The incensing relicks of it.

FORLORN.

H. iii. 3.

A. W. v. 3.

Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed off the next tide.

FORTITUDE.

Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
To grace it with your sorrows; bid that welcome
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it,
Seeming to bear it lightly.

In the reproof of chance

H. V. iv. 1.

A. C. iv. 12.

Lies the true proof of men: The sea being smooth,
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail

Upon her patient breast, making their way

With those of nobler bulk!

But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold

The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,
Bounding between the two moist elements,

Like Perseus' horse: Where's then the saucy boat,
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
Co-rivall❜d greatness? either to harbour fled,
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so,

Doth valour's show, and valour's worth, divide

In storms of fortune: for, in her ray and brightness,
The herd hath more annoyance by the brize,

Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind

Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,

And flies fled under shade,-why, then, the thing of courage,

As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,

And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key,
Returns to chiding fortune.

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate.

FORTUNE.

T.C. i. 3.

T.C. v. 3.

I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o' the mount
Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere,
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of Timon's frame,

FORTUNE,-continued.

Whom Fortune, with her ivory hand, wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

*

*

*

All those which were his fellows but of late
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,

Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air.

*

*

*

When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood,
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.

O Fortune, Fortune! all men call thee fickle.
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach and no food,-
Such are the poor, in health ;—or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach,-such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

T. A. i. 1.

R. J. iii. 5.

H.IV. PT. II. iv. 4.

Twinn'd brothers of one womb,

Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

Scarce is dividant,-touch them with several fortunes,
The greater scorns the lesser: Not nature,

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,
But by contempt of nature.

Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord;
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,
The beggar, native honour.

It is the pasture lards the brother's sides,
The want that makes him lean.

Here's the scroll,

T.A. iv. 3.

The continent, and summary, of my fortunes. M.V. iii. 2.
Why, then, you princes,

Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works;

And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought else
But the protractive trials of great Jove,

To find persistive constancy in men?

The fineness of which metal is not found

In Fortune's love; for then, the bold and coward,

The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd and kin:
But in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,
Puffing at all, winnows the light away;