Blame Thyself! influence, and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. BUT King Lear. Act I, Sc. 2. UT as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows. A Winter's Tale. Act IV, Sc. 4. HESITATION The Pallor of Thought COWARD conscience, how doth thou afflict me! Richard III. Act V, Sc. 3. HUS conscience doth make cowards of Thus all; And thus the native hue of resolution Hamlet. Act III, Sc. 1. ΤΗ do THAT we wou do when we would; for We should this "would" changes, And hath abatements and delays as many That hurts by easing. Hamlet. Act IV, Sc. 7. NA [AY, if we talk of reason, Let's shut our gates, and sleep. Man hood and honour Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this cramm'd reason. Reason and re spect Make livers pale and lustihood deject. Troilus and Cressida. Act II, Sc. 2. UR doubts are traitors, O" And make us lose the good we oft By fearing to attempt. Measure for Measure. Act I, Sc. 4. Post ponement Hare hearted Reason ing Doubts are Traitors Act! Strike! FR ROM this moment purpose never is o'ertook The very firstlings of my heart shall be ΤΗ Macbeth. Act IV, Sc. 1. HOUGHTS speculative their unsure hopes relate, But certain issue strokes must arbitrate. Macbeth. Act V, Sc. 4. SELF-SLAUGHTER Fear T O kill myself, The Will to Die alack, what were it, But with my body my poor soul's pol lution? OR stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, NOR Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, T Julius Cæsar. Act I, Sc. 3. O be, or not to be: that is the question. suffer to The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, For who would bear the whips and scorns of The Undiscovered Country The Question A Fettered Con science The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's con- The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, That patient merit of the unworthy takes, And makes us rather bear those ills we have LL'S but naught; Patience is sottish, and impatience does Antony and Cleopatra. Act IV, Sc. 15. |