Imatges de pàgina

The armipotent soldier.

A.W. iv. 3.
'Tis the soldiers' life
To have their balmy slumbers wak'd with strife. 0. ii. 3.

'Tis much he dares;
And, to the dauntless temper of his mind,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
To act in safety.

M. iii. 1.
A braver soldier never couched lance,
A gentler heart did never sway in court. H.VI. PT. I. iii. 2.
I am a soldier; and unapt to weep,
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. H.VI. PT. I. v.3.
Fye, my lord, fye! a soldier and afraid ?

M. v. 1.
Trailest thou the puissant pike?

H. V. iv. 1. Go to the wars, would you? where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough at the end to buy him a wooden one ?

P. P. iv. 6. Faith, Sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians,—to belie him I will not,—and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country, he had the honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile End, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain.

A.W. iv. 3.
All furnish'd, all in arms,
All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind;
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd;
Glittering in golden coats, like images ;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.

H. IV. PT. 1. iv. 1. Tut, tut; good enough to toss ; food for powder, food for powder; they'll find a pit as well as better.

H, IV, PT. I. iv, 2.
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,
That lik’d, but had a rougher task in hand
Than to drive liking to the name of love:
But now I am return'd, and that war-thoughts
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms
Come thronging soft and delicate desires. M. A. i. 1.

May that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love. T.C. i. 3.


Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt:
He only liv'd but till he was a man;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd,
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.

M. v.7.
They say he parted well, and paid his score;
So God be with him,

M. v. 7
I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field ;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.

K. J. v.5.
So underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. H.FI. PT. III. Ü. 3.

Why then, God's soldier be he!
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death :
And so his knell is knoll’d.


To be tender-minded
Does not become a sword :-Thy great employment
Will not bear question.

K. L. v.3.
It fits thee not to ask the reason why,
Because we bid it.

P. P. i. 1.
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster.

0. i. 1.
Mere prattle without pactice,
Is all his soldiership.


Frame yourself
To orderly solicits; and be friended
With aptness of the season.

Cym. ii. 3. SOLITUDE.

How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes,
Tune my distresses, and record my woos. T.G. v. 4.


A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the

benefit of sleep, and to do the effects of watching. M. v. 1. SONG.

I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs: More, I pr’ythee, more.

A. Y. ii. 5.
My mother had a maid call’d Barbara ;
She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd mad,
And did forsake her: she had a song of Willow,
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it.

0. iv. 3.

She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east. H. IV. PT. 1. iii. 1.
'Fore heaven, an excellent song.

0. ii. 3.
Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. O. ii. 3.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night;
Methought it did relieve my passion much;
More than light airs and recollected terms,
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. T. N. ii. 4.
It hath been sung at festivals,
On ember eves and holy ales ;
And lords and ladies of their lives
Have read it for restoratives.

P. P. i. chorus.
Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain ;
The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,
Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth,
And dallies with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.

T. N. ii. 4. SONG, POPULAR.

No hearing, no feeling, but my Sir's song; and admiring the nothing of it.

W. T. iv. 3. There's scarce a maid westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you.

W. T. iv. 3.


I had rather than forty shillings, I had my book of songs and sonnets here.


Shall we rouse the night owl in a catch ? T. N. ii. 3. SORROW (See Grief, LAMENTATION, TEARS).

Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.

R. II. i. 4.
Go, count thy way with sighs ;-I mine with groans.

R. II. v. 1
When sorrows come, they come, not single spies,
But in battalions.

H. iv.5.
One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir,
That may succeed as his inheritor.

P. P.i. 4.
'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots
Out of the mind.

A.C. iv. 2.
A cypress, not a bosom,
Hides my poor heart.

T. N. ii. 1.
O, if you teach me to believe this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die.
And let belief and life encounter so,
As doth the fury of two desperate men,
Which, in their very meeting, fall, and die. K. J. üi. I.
How ill all's here about my heart!

H. v. 2.
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up; here I and sorrow sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. *K. J. ij.l.

Cure her of that:
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?

M. v. 3.
Impatience waiteth on true sorrow. H.VI. PT. III. iii. 3.
For gnarled sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. R. II. i. 3.
Sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.

R. II. i. 2.


All strange and terrible events are welcome,
But comforts we despise; our size of sorrrow,
Proportion'd to our cause must be as great,
As that which makes it.

A. C. iv. 13.
Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds.

W. T. iii. 3. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow, that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in.

A.W.i. 3.
Down, thou climbing sorrow, thy element's below.

K. L. ii. 4.
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. T.C. i. 1.

This sorrow's heavenly,
It strikes where it doth love.

0. v. 2.
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek; it seem'd, she was a queen
Over her passion ; who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her.

K. L. iv. 3. Her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven.

A.W. iv. 3.

My grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death;
The blood weeps

from my heart, when I do shape,
In forms imaginary, the unguided days,
And rotten times that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors. H. IV. PT. p. iv. 5.

One, whose subdu'd eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees,
Their medicinal gum.

0. v.2.
These miseries are more than may be borne !
To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal,
But sorrow flouted at his double death. Tit. And. iii. 1.

The tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.

A. C. i. 2.
Though that be sick it dies not.

H. IV. PT. 11. ii. 2.

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