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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.

ON HIS HONEST STEWARD.

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.

ACT V.

PROMISING AND PERFORMANCE.

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.

WRONG AND INSOLENCE.

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

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

TITUS ANDRONICUS.

ACT І.

MERCY.

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

THANKS.

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

ACT II.

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.

DESCRIPTION OF A MELANCHOLY VALLEY.
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.

DESCRIPTION OF A RING.

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.

LAVINA AT HER LUTE.

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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.

ACT III.
LAVINA'S LOSS OF HER TONGUE DESCRIBED.
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!

DESPAIR.
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.

TEARS.

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.

CRUELTY TO INSECTS.
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

REVENGE.

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

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

ACT I.

LOVE IN A BRAVE YOUNG SOLDIER.

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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