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And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
GREATNESS (See also KINGS, Authority).
Some are born great:-
:-some achieve
have greatness thrust upon them.
Rightly to be great,
Is, not to stir without great argument;
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw,
When honour's at the stake.
Would you praise Cæsar, say,-Cæsar; go no further.

H. iv. 4.

A. C. iii. 2.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world,
Like a Colossus; and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about,
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

greatness;-some T. N. iii. 4.

This man

Is now become a god; and Cassius is
A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod at him.

The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power.

M.V. i. 1.

Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them;
But, in the less, foul profanation.
That, in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

J.C. i. 2.

The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speakest cheerfully.

J. C. i. 2.

J.C. ii. 1.

M. M. ii. 2.


A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: Welcome:
A curse begin at very root of his heart,
That is not glad to see thee!

C. ii. 1. H.V. iv. 1.

H.V. iv. 1.

Why have you stolen upon us thus! You come not
Like Cæsar's sister; the wife of Antony
Should have an army for an usher, and
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach,
Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way,
Should have borne men; and expectation fainted,
Longing for what it had not: nay, the dust


Should have ascended to the roof of heaven,
Rais'd by your populous troops: But you are come
A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented
The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown,
Is often left unlov'd: we should have met you
By sea, and land; supplying every stage
With an augmented greeting.


Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least, speak most, to my capacity.


Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madness with a silken thread,
Charm ache with air, and agony with words.
No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience
To those that wring under a load of sorrow;
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency,
To be so moral, when he shall endure
The like himself: therefore give me no counsel;
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

I cannot but remember such things were

That were most precious to me.

A. C iii. 6.

If I could temporize with my affection,

Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,

M. N. v. 1.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from the thief:
He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief.

O. i. 3.

M. A. v. 1.

Why tell you me of moderation?
The grief is fine, full, perfect, which I taste,

And no less in a sense as strong

As that which causeth it: How can I moderate it?

M. iv. 3.


The like allayment could I give my grief;
My love admits no qualifying cross:
No more my grief, in such a precious loss.
The heart hath treble wrong,
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.
Some grief shows much of love;
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

My grief lies all within,
And these external manners and laments
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.

The gods rebuke me, but it is a tidings
To wash the eyes of kings.

T.C. iv. 4.

R. J. iii. 5.

R. II. iv. 1.

A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder. H. IV. PT. I. ii. 4.

A. C. v. 1.

I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve: give not me counsel,
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear,
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.


M. A. v. 1.

Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and makes it break.

Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,
That sees into the bottom of my grief?
Had he the motive and the cue for passion,
That I have, he would drown the stage with tears,
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech;
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free,
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed,
The very faculties of eyes and ears.

M. iv. 3.

Like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.
H.VIII. iii. 1.

Your cause of sorrow
Must not be measur'd by its worth, for then
It hath no end.

M. v. 7.

R. J. iii. 5.

H. ii. 2.

Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel:
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
Doating like me, and like me banished,

Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou tear thy hair,


And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Grief softens the mind, and makes it fearful and de


R. J. iii. 3.

H.VI. PT. II. iv. 4

There she shook

The holy water from her heavenly eyes,

And clamour-moisten'd: then away she started,
To deal with grief alone.

O, insupportable! O, heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.

Good, my lords,

I am not prone to weeping, as our sex
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew,
Perchance, shall dry your pities; but I have
That honourable grief lodg'd here, which burns
Worse than tears drown.

Woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.

My lord;-I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops.

K. L. iv. 3

0. v. 2.

W.T. ii. 1.

R. II. i. 3.

H. IV. PT. II. iv. 4.

One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angled for mine eyes (caught the water, though not the fish) was, when at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came to it, (bravely confessed and lamented by the king), how attentiveness wounded his daughter: till, from one sign of dolour to another, she did, with an alas! I would fain say, bleed tears; for, I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there, changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world could have seen it, the woe had been universal. W.T. v. 2.

Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
For things that are not to be remedied.

Why do you keep alone,

H.VI. PT. I. iii. 3.

Of sorriest fancies your companions making?

Using those thoughts, which should indeed have died
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard.

M. iii. 2.


These tidings nip me: and I hang the head,
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms.
Tit. And. iv. 4.

Nor doth the general care

Take hold on me; for my particular grief
Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.

Many a morning hath he there been seen,
With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew,
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs.

O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue!

His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack.

Now my soul's palace is become a prison:
Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body
Might in the ground be closed up in rest;
For never henceforth shall I joy again. H.VI. PT. III. ii. 1.
How now! has sorrow made thee dote already?

But let not therefore my good friends be griev'd,
Nor construe any further my neglect,
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,
Forgets the shows of love to other men.
All things that we ordained festival,
Turn from their office to black funeral:
Our instruments, to melancholy bells:
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast;
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change;
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,
And all things change them to the contrary.
Once a day I'll visit

The chapel where they lie: and tears, shed there,
Shall be my recreation: so long as Nature
Will bear up with this exercise, so long
I daily vow to use it.

Sorrow, and grief of heart,
Made him speak fondly, like a frantic man.

O. i. 3.

R. J. i. 1.

M. iv. 3.

Tit. And. iii. 2.

K. L. v. 3.

J. C. i. 2.

O break, my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at once!
To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth resign; end, motion, here;
And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier.

R. J. iv. 5.

W. T. iii: 2.

R. J. iii. 2.

R. II. iii. 3

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