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! Thief. We cannot live on grass, on berries,

water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes. Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and

fishes; You must eat men.

Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profess’d; that you work not In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft In limited* professions. Rascal thieves, Here's gold: Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape, Till the high sever seeth your blood to froth, And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; His antidotes are poison, and he slays More than you rob: také wealth and lives together; Do, villany, do, since you profess to do't, Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery: The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thies, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief, That seeds and breeds by a composturet stolen From general excrement: each thing's a thies; The laws, your curh and whip, in their rough power Hare uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away; Rob one another. There's more gold: Cut throats; All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, Break open shops; nothing can you steal, But thieves do lose it.


Forgive my general and exceptless rashness,
Perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim
One honest man,-mistake me not,-but one:
No more, I pray,and he is a steward,
How fain would I have hate: all mankind,
And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee,
( fell with curses.
Methinks thou art more honest now, than wise,
For, by oppressing and betraying me,
Thou might'st have sooner got another service:
• For legal.

# Compost manure.

For many so arrive at second masters,
Upon their first lord's neck.



Promising is the very air oʻthe time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying* is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable: perform ance is a kind of will or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.


Now breathless wrong
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease;

insolence shall break his wind, With fear and horrid flight.




WILT thou draw near the nature of the gods?
Draw near them then in being merciful:
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.


Thanks, to men
Of noble minds, is honourable meed.


INVITATION TO LOVE. The birds chant melody on every bush; The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun; The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground; Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And-whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,

* The doing of that we said we would do.

Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,-
Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise:
And, after conflict, such as was suppos’d
The wandering prince of Dido once enjoy'd,
When with a happy storm they were surprisid,
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,-
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber;
While hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious bırds,
Be unto us, as is a nurse's song
or lullaby, to bring her babe asleep.

A barren detested vale, you see, it is:
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O’ercome with moss, and baleful misletoe.
Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven.
And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit,
They told me, here, at dead time of the night,
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins *
Would make such fearful and confused cries,
As any mortal body, hearing it,
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.


Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
Which, like a taper in some monument,
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks,
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit.


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Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
But lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee:
A craftier Tereus bast thou met withal,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sewid than Philoms.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands

• Hedge

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Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them;
He would not then have touch'd them for his life:
Or had he heard the heavenly harmony,
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep,
As Cerberus, at the Thracian poet’s* seet.

0, that delightful engine of her thoughts,
That blab’d them with such pleasing eloquence,
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage:
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it

sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear!

For now I stand as one upon a rock.
Environ’d with a wilderness of sea;
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave,
Expecting ever when some envious surge
Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him.


When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd.

Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly.

Tit. But how, is that fly had a father and mother
How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buz lamenting doings in the air!
Poor harmless fly!
That with his pretty buzzing melody, [him.
Came here to make us merry; and thou hast killed


Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stand
Now give some 'surance that thou art Rerenge,
Stab them, rr tear them on thy chariot wheels;
And then I'll come, and be thy wagoner,
And whiri along with thee about the globes.

• Orpheus.

Provide the proper palfries, black as jet,
To hale thy vengeful wagon swift away,
And find out murderers in their guilty caves:
And, when thy car is loaden with their heads,
I will dismount, and by the wagon wheel
Trot, like a servile footman, all day long;
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east,
Until his very downfall in the sea




CALL here my varlet,* I'll unarm again:
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within?
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart,
Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none.

The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; But I am weaker then a woman's tear, Tamer than sheep, sondert than ignorance; Less valiant than the virgin in the night, And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy.


O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,When I do tell thee, There my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie endrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad In Cressida's love: Thou answer’st, she is fair; Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice; Handlest in thy discourse, 0, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink, Writing their own reproach; to whose sost seizure The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughmen! This thou tell'st me,

* A servant to a knight. + Weaker.

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