Imatges de pàgina
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MERCY,-continued.

And earthly pow'r doth then show likest God's,
When mercy seasons justice.

Alas! alas!

Why, all the souls that are, were forfeit once;
And He that might th' advantage best have took,
Found out the remedy: How would you be,
If He, who is the top of judgment, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

I am an humble suitor to your virtues;
For pity is the virtue of the law,

And none but tyrants use it cruelly.

If little faults, proceeding on distemper,

M. V. iv. 1.

M. M. ii. 2.

T. A. iii. 5.

Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye,
When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested,
Appear before us?

Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue:

His faults lie open to the laws; let them,

Not you, correct him.

Well, believe this;

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,

Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does.

Lawful mercy is

Nothing akin to foul redemption.

Though justice be thy plea, consider this :

That in the course of justice, none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

H.V. ii. 2.

H.VIII. iii. 2.

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.

Mercy is not itself that oft looks so;

Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.

M. M. ii. 2.

M. M. ii. 4.

M. V. iv. 1.

M. M. ii. 1.

You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,
As dogs upon their masters, worrying them.

MERIT.

H.V. ii. 2.

There is more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand.

A. W. i. 3.

You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought

after.

H.IV. PT. II. ii. 4.

MERIT,-continued.

Thou art so far before,

That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee.

DEPENDENT.

Better it is to die, better to starve,

Than crave the hire which first we do deserve.

MERRY WIVES.

Wives may be merry, and yet honest too.

MESSENGER (See also NEws).

M. i. 4.

C. ii. 3.

M.W. iv. 2.

The first bringer of unwelcome news

Hath but a losing office; and his tongue

Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,

Remember'd knolling a departed friend. H. IV. PT. II. i. 1.

Though it be honest, it is never good

To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message
A host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Here is a dear and true industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blount, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil

A. C. ii. 5.

Betwixt that Holmedon, and this seat of ours;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.

I have not seen

H. IV. PT. I. i. 1.

So likely an ambassador of love;
A day in April never came so sweet,
To show how costly summer was at hand,
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France;
For ere thou canst report, I will be there;
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard.
Why, he is dead.

M. V. ii. 9.

K. J. i. 1.

See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
He, that but fears the thing be would not know,
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes.
That which he fear'd is chanc'd. Yet speak, Morton,
Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies;

And I will take it as a sweet disgrace;

And make thee rich for doing me much wrong.

H. IV. PT. II. i. 1.

How doth my son, and brother?
Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,

MESSENGER,-continued.

So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd;
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it.
This thou would'st say,-Your son did thus, and thus;
Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds;
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with-brother, son, and all are dead.

H. IV. PT. II. i. 1.

Yea, this man's brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume;
So looks the strong, whereon the imperial flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation.

Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?

Pr'ythee, say on;

H. IV. PT. II. i. 1.

The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

If thou speak'st false,

Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,

Till famine cling thee; if thy speech be sooth,

I care not if thou dost for me as much.

T. ii. 1.

M. v. 5

MIGHTY DEAD (See also LIFE, DEATH, MAN, FALLEN GREATNESS).

Here none but soldiers, and Rome's servitors,

Repose in fame.

ANTONY.

Tit. And. i. 2.

His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm
Crested the world; his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in't.

In his livery

A. C. v. 2.

Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were

As plates dropp'd from his pockets.

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A. C. v. 2.

A. C. v. 1.

MIGHTY DEAD,-continued.

The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Roüen;
A braver soldier never couched lance,
A gentler heart did never sway in court:
But kings and mightiest potentates must die:
For that's the end of human misery.

BRUTUS.

H.VI. PT. I. iii. 2.

Free from the bondage you are in, Messala ;
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.
According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.

CORIOLANUS.

Bear from hence his body,

And mourn you for him; let him be regarded
As the noblest corse, that ever herald
Did follow to his urn.

JULIUS CESAR.

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man,

That ever lived in the tide of times.

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!
Over thy wounds now do I prophecy,-

Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue!
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;

Domestic fury, and fierce civil strife,
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;
Blood and destruction shall be so in use,

And dreadful objects so familiar,

That mothers shall but smile, when they behold
Their infants quarter'd by the hands of war:
All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds:
And Caesar's spirit, raging for revenge,
With Até by his side, come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,
Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.

-SALISBURY.

And, that hereafter ages may behold
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,

J.C. v. 5.

J.C. v. 4.

C. v. 5.

J. C. iii. 1.

MIGHTY DEAD,-continued.
Within their chiefest temple I'll erect
A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd.

MIND.

When the mind's free the body's delicate. MIRACLES.

H.VI. PT. I. ii. 2.

It must be so: for miracles are ceas'd;
And therefore we must needs admit the means
How things are perfected.

Great floods have flown

K. L. iii. 4.

From simple sources; and great seas have dried,
While miracles have by the greatest been denied.

MIRTH.

Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth;
Turn melancholy forth to funerals,
The pale companion is not for our pomp.

H.V. i. 1.

A. W. ii. 1.

M. N. i. 1.

Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-mor-
row.—Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of
good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry?
Shall we have a play extempore?
H. IV. PT. I. ii. 4.

See, your guests approach:
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.

W.T. iv. 3.

Frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.

A merrier man,

Within the limit of becoming mirth,

I never spent an hour's talk withal.

T. S. IND. 2.

And then the old quire hold their lips, and loffe;
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear

A merrier hour was never wasted there.

Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way

And merrily hent the stile-a,

A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tires in a mile-a.

He makes a July's day short as December;
And, with his varying childness, cures in me
Thoughts that would thick my blood.

L. L. ii. 1.

M. N. ii. 1.

W. T. iv. 3.

W. T. i. 2.

From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him; he hath a

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