то THE
-If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a fon fet your decrees at nought;
To pluck down juftice from your awful bench;
To trip the courfe of law, and blunt the fword
That guards the peace and fafety of your perfon;
Nay, more, to fpurn at your moft royal image,
And mock your workings in a fecond body:
Queftion your royal thoughts, make the cafe yours;
Be now the father, and propofe a fon;
Hear your own dignity fo much profan'd,
See your most dreadful laws fo loofely flighted;
Behold yourself fo by a fon difdain'd';
And then imagine me taking your part,
And in your power fo filencing your fon.
Henry IV. Part II. A. 5. Sc. 2.
SUICIDE.
To be, or not to be; that is the queftion:-
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to fuffer
The flings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a fea of troubles,
And, by oppofing, end them? To die-to fleep-
No more? And, by a fleep, to fay we end
The heart-ach, and the thoufand natural shocks
T'hat flesh is heir to,-'tis a confummation
Devoutly to be wifh'd. To die; to fleep;
To fleep! perchance to dream: aye, there's the rub ;
For in that fleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have fhuffled off this mortal coil,
Muft give us paufe. There's the refpect,
That makes calamity of fo long life:
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppreffor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of defpis'd love, the law's delay,
The infolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardles bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of fomething after death,
That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns-puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear thofe ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus confcience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of refolution
Is fickly'd o'er with the pale caft of thought;
And enterprifes of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lofe the name of action.
I know where I will wear this dagger then:
Caffius from bondage will deliver Caffius:
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat.
Nor ftony tower, nor walls of beaten brafs,
Nor airless dungeon, nor ftrong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of fpirit;
But life, being weary of thofe worldly bars,
Never lacks power to difmifs itself.
If I know this-know all the world befide,
That part of tyranny, that I do bear,
I can fhake off at pleasure.
Julius Cæfar, A. 1. Sc. 3
From the four corners of the earth they come,
To kifs this fhrine, this mortal-breathing faint
Th' Hyrcanian deferts, and the vafty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as thorough-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia.
The watry kingdom, whofe ambitious head.
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To ftop the foreign fpirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to fee fair Pertia.
The Merchant of Venice, A. 2. Sc. 7.
SUN RI SI N G.
Know't thou not,
That when the fearching eye of heav'n is hid
Behind the globe that lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen,
In murders, and in outrage bloody, here;
But when from under this terreftrial ball
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treafons, and detefted fins,
The cloke of night being pluck'd from off their backs,
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves?
King Richard II. A. 3. Sc. 2o.
SUPERFLUIT Y.
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To fmooth the ice, and add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To feek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wafteful and ridiculous excefs.
SUPPLICATION.
-Whate'er you are,
That in this defert inacceffible,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs,
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time;
If ever you have look'd on better days,
If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church,
If ever fat at any good man's feaft,
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear,
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied;
Let gentleness my ftrong enforcement be,
In the which hope I blush, and hide my fword.
As You Like It, A. 2. Sc. 7..
SUSPENS E.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantafma, or a hideous dream :
The genius and the mortal inftruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, fuffers then
The nature of an infurrection.
Julius Cæfar, A. 2. Sc. 1..
SWIMMING.
I faw him beat the furges under him,
And ride upon their backs: he trode the water;
Whofe enmity he flung afide, and breafted
The furge moft fwoln that met him his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms, in lufty ftrokes,
To th' fhore; that o'er his wave-worn bafis bow'd,
As ftooping to relieve him. The Tempest, A 2. Sc. 1.
Haft thou, that art but air, a touch, a feeling,
Of their afflictions; and fhall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as fharply,
Paffion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?
Tho' with their high wrongs I am ftruck to th' quick,
Yet with my nobler reafon, 'gainst my fury,
Do I take part the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance. They being penitent,
The fole drift of my purpose doth extend
The Tempest, A. 5. Sc. 1.
An honeft tale speeds beft, being plainly told.
King Richard III. A. 4. Sc. 4.
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
That filverly doth progress on thy cheeks.
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,
Being an ordinary inundation;
But this effufion of such manly drops,
This fhow'r, blown up by tempeft of the foul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd,
Than had I feen the vaulty top of heav'n
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
Are you not mov'd when all the fway of earth
Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero!
I have feen tempefts when the fcolding winds
Have riv'd the knotty oaks; and I have feen
Th' ambitious ocean fwell, and rage, and foam,
To be exalted with the threatening clouds
But never till to-night, never till now,
Did I go through a tempeft dropping fire.
Either there is a civil ftrife in heaven;
Or elfe the world, too faucy with the Gods,
Incenses them to fend deftruction.
Julius Cæfar, A. 1. Sc. 3.
Love not fuch nights as thefe; the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,
And make them keep their caves: Since I was man,
Such fheets of fire, fuch bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard: Man's nature cannot carry
The affliction, nor the fear. Lear, A. 3. Sc. 2,
Poor naked wretches, wherefoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How fhall your houseless heads, and unfed fides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggednefs, defend you
From feafons fuch as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take phyfic, Pomp;
Expofe thyfelf to feel what wretches feel,
That thou may'ft fhake the fuperflux to them,
And fhew the heavens more juft.
TEMPTATION.
Let but your honour know,
Whom I believe to be moft ftraight in virtue,
That, in the working of your own affections,
Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing,
Or that the refolute acting of your blood
Could have attain'd th' effect of your own purpose ;
Whether you had not, fome time in your life,
Err'd in this point, which now you cenfure him,
And pull'd the law upon you.
Meafure for Measure, A. 2. Sc. 2.
Oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The inftruments of darkness tell us truths;
Win us with honeft trifles, to betray us
In deepest confequence.
THOUGHT IN EFFECTUAL.
Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frofty Caucasus?
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