In silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade: Come now a roundel, and a fairy song; Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks, and dewberries, Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, FALSEHOOD. Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand Is perjur'd to the bosom? Protheus, I am sorry, I must never trust thee more, But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell! My love to Hermia, Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now So the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death You told a lie; an odious, damned lie ; Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lie. FAME. Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; The evil, that men do, lives after them; Men's evil manners live in brass: their virtues Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heav'n! Glory is like a circle in the water, "Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 73 FAME.-FANCY.-FATE.-FAVOUR. Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, When it deserves with characters of brass A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time FANCY. Tell me, where is fancy bred ; All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy. FATE. What fates impose, that men must needs abide; FAVOUR. O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God Ready, with every nod, to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep. E There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 'Tis the curse of service; She may help you to many fair preferments; may she not? She may-ay marry, may she, FEAR. Whence is that knocking! How is't with me, when every noise appals me? His horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, When mine are blanch'd with fear. Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee; And, for my soul, what can it do to that, O, these flaws, and starts, (Impostors to true fear,) would well become A woman's story, at a winter's fire, Authoriz'd by her grandam. Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; A woman, naturally born to fears; And though thou now confess, thou did'st but jest, But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon! Where got'st thou that goose look? Accursed be the tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! I have almost forgot the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool'd As life were in't: I have supp'd full of horrors; FIDELITY. He that can endure To follow with allegiance a fallen lord, Doth conquer him that did his master conquer, |