Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express'd in fancy: rich, not gaudy,
For the apparel oft proclaims the man;

And they in France, of the best rank and station,
Are most select and generous, chief in that,
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,-To thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee.

COUNTESS ROUSILLION TO HER SON.
Be thou blest, Bertram! and succeed thy father
In manners as in shape! Thy blood, and virtue,
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright, Love all trust a few,
Do wrong to none; Be able for thine enemy
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend
Under thine own life's key: Be check'd for silence,
But never taxed for speech. What Heaven more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head. Farewell!

REPROVING.

REPROVING puts on a stern aspect, roughens the voice, and is accompanied with gestures not much different from those of Threatening, but not so lively, see Threatening.

KING HENRY V. REPROVING FALSTAFF.

I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy prayers;
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
I have long dream'd of such a kind of man,
So surfeit swell'd, so old, and so profane,
But being awake, I do despise my dream,
Make less thy body, hence, and more thy grace:
Leave gormandizing. Know, the grave doth gape
For thee, thrice wider than for other men;
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest ;
Presume not, that I am the thing I was,

For heaven doth know, so shall the world perceive,
That I have turn'd away from my former self;
So will I those that kept me company,
When thou dost hear I am as I have been,
Approach me; and thou shalt be as thou wast,
The tutor and the feeder of my riots;
"Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death,-
As I have done the rest of my misleaders,
Not to come near our person by ten mile.
For competence of life I will allow you,

That lack of means enforce you not to evil,
And as we hear you do reform yourselves,
We will, according to your strength and qualities,
Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord,
To see perform'd the tenor of our word.

OTHELLO DISTURBED BY CASSIO'S QUARRELLING.
Why, how now, ho!--from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks ? and to ourselves do that,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites ?
For christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage,
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle

From her propriety. What is the matter, masters ?
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? On thy love, I charge thee.
UPBRAIDING.

HELENA UPBRAIDING HERMIA.

Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid!
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived
To bait me with this foul derision?

Is all the counsel that we two have shared,
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent,
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us,-O, and is all forgot?

All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;
But yet a union in partition,

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart:
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest,
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly;

Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it;
Though I alone do feel the injury.

(Imposters to true fear) would well become
A woman's story, at a winter's fire,
Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces?

CONSTANCE REPROACHING AUSTRIA.
-Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villany!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou fortune's champion, thou dost never fight,
But when her humorous ladyship is by

To teach thee safety! Thou art perjur'd too,

And smooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear,
Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave,
Hast thon not spoke like thunder on my side?
Been sworn my soldier? Bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
And thou dost now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.
EGEUS AGAINST LYSANDER,

-My gracious Duke,

He hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child;
Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes,
And interchang'd love-tokens with my child:
Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love,
And stol'n th' impression of her phantasy,
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits,
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats; messengers
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth;
With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart,
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me,
To stubborn harshness.

POLYDORE REPROACHING MONIMIA.
Intolerable vanity! your sex

Was never in the right! ye are always false,
Or silly, even your dresses are not more
Fantastic than your appetites; you think
Of nothing twice; opinion you have none,
To-day you're nice, to-morrow not so free:
Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then glad;
Now pleased; now not: and all you know not why.
MARCELLUS'S SPEECH TO THE MOB.

Wherefore rejoice? What conquests brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,

To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels?

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O, you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome!

Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft

Have you
climb'd up to walls and battlements,
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,
Your infants in your arms, and there have sat
The live-long day, with patient expectation,
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome!
And when you saw his chariot but appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tyber trembled underneath her banks.
To hear the replication of your sounds,
Made in her concave shores ?

And do you now put on your best attire?
And do you now cull out a holiday?
And do you now strew flowers in his way,
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?
Begone!

Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light upon this ingratitude.

VANOC REPROACHING THE ROMANS.

Speak the plain truth, and varnish not your crimes,
Say, that you were once virtuous,-long ago
A frugal hardy people, like the Britons,
Before you grew thus elegant in vice,
And gave your luxuries the name of virtues.
The civilizers!-the disturbers, say;-
The robbers, the corrupters of mankind,

Proud vagabonds! who make the world your home,
And lord it where you have no right.

Come you then thus far through waves to conquer,
To waste, to plunder out of mere compassion ?
Is it humanity that prompts you on

To range the whole earth, to burn, destroy?
To raise the cry of widows and of orphans ?
To lead in bonds the generous free-born princes,
Who spurn, who fight against your tyranny?
Happy for us, and happy for you spoilers,
Had your humanity ne'er reach'd our world-
It is a virtue-(so it seems you call it)
A Roman virtue that has cost you dear;
And dearer shall it cost if Vanoc lives,-
Or if to die, we shall leave those behind us
Who know the worth of British liberty.

CHIDING, BLAMING.

ROSALIND CHIDING PHOEBE.

And why, I pray you, who might be your mother,

That you insult, exult, and all at once

Over the wretched? What, though you have more beauty,

As by my faith, I see no more in you

Than without candle may go dark to bed;

Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?

Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?
I see no more in you, than in the ordinary
Of nature's sale-work? Od's, my little life,
I think she means to tangle my eyes too;
No faith, proud mistress, hope not after it,
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,
Your bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream,
That can entame my spirits to your worship,—
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,
Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain?
You are a thousand times a properer man
Than she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you,
That make the world full of ill-favour'd children
"Tis not her glass, but you that flatter her,
And out of you she sees herself more proper
Than any of her lineaments can shew her.
But mistress, know yourself, down upon your knees,
And thank heaven fasting, for a good man's love;
For I must tell you friendly in your ear,
Sell when you can, you are not for all markets,
Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer,
So take her to thee, shepherd.-Fare you well.

THREATENING.

SATAN'S CONTENTION WITH DEATH.
"Whence, and what art thou, execrable shape!
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance
Thy miscreated front athwart my way

To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass,
That be assur'd, without leave ask'd of thee;
Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof,
Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of heaven!"
To whom the goblin, full of wrath, replied:
"Art thou that traitor-angel, art thou he,

Who first broke peace in heaven, and faith, till then
Unbroken; and in proud, rebellious arms,
Drew after him the third part of heaven's sons,
Conjured against the Highest; for which both thou
And they, outcast from God, are here condemn'd
To waste eternal days in woe and pain?

And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of heaven,
Hell-doom'd and breath'st defiance here, and scorn
Where I reign king; and to enrage the more,
Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment,
False fugitive; and to thy speed add wings,
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue
Thy lingering; or with one stroke of this dart,
Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before!"

CAUTIONING-WARNING.

Cautioning or Warning, require somewhat of the action and

expression of Threatening, but less violent, see Reproving.