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Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;
And he, the noble image of my youth,
Is overspread with them: therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.

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

We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' the cold ground.

H. iv. 5.

Bind up those tresses: O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.

There's nothing in this world can make me joy:
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
Every one can master a grief, but he that has it.

What fates impose, that men must needs abide;
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.

Friend, I owe more tears

To this dead man, than thou shalt see me pay.
Strange it is,
That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

Great griefs, I see, medicine the less.

What's gone, and what's past help, Should be past grief.

H.VI. PT. III. iv. 3.

Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. H.VI. PT. III. V. 4.

What is he whose grief

Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wand'ring stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers?

As is my grief!

K. J. iii 4.

K. J. iii. 4.

M. A. iii. 2.

Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone?
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye?

O, that I were as great

H. v. i.

J.C. v. 3.

A.C. v. 1. Cym. iv. 2.

W.T. iii. 2.

H.VIII. iv. 2.

R. II. iii. 3.


And but he's something stain'd

With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st call him
A goodly person.

T. i. 2.

I have in equal balance justly weigh'd,
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,
And find our griefs heavier than our offences.

H.IV. PT. II. iv. 1.

All of us have cause

To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can cure their harms by wailing them.

Why, courage, then! what cannot be avoided,
"Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear.


R. III. ii. 2.

H.VI. PT. III. v. 4.

And, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven
If that be true, I shall see my boy again;

For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire,

There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek;
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit;
And so he'll die; and, rising so again,

When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know him: therefore, never, never,
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.

He talks to me that never had a son.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.-
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure!

K. J. iii. 4.

K. J. iii. 4.

K. J. iii. 4.


The violence of either grief or joy,
Their own enactures with themselves destroy:
Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament;
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident.

O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,—
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another,
Within their alabaster innocent arms.

H. iii. 2.

R. III. iv. 3.


H. iv. 5.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
Guiltiness will speak
Though tongues were out of use.
Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in it?
H. iii. 2.

0. v. 1.

And then it started like a guilty thing

Upon a fearful summons.

The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed.

I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts. T. C. v. ii.
Infected minds

M. v. 1.

H. i. 1.

To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below;
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

I have liv'd long enough; my way of life
Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf;
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.

H. iii. 3.

M. v. 3.


What win the guilty, gaining what they seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy!
For one sweet grape, who will the vine destroy?
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?

Or sells eternity to get a toy?




HABIT (See also CUSTOM).

For use almost can change the stamp of nature
And either curb the devil, or throw him out
With wondrous potency.

The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice driven bed of down.


A halter, gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. HAND.

H. iii. 4.


Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich.
H. IV. PT. II. v. 3.


Stoop, boys: this gate

Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you
To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs
Are arch'd so high, that giants jet through
And keep their impious turbans on, without
Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven!
We house i'the rock, yet use thee not so hardly
As prouder livers do.

Cym. iii. 3.

O. i. 3.

O, that her hand,
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach; To whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughmen.

M.V. iv.?

T.C. i. 1.


O Lord! he will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. M. A. i. 1.


O the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it: of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: Your neck, Sir, is pen, book, and counters, so the acquittance follows.

Cym. v. 4.

A heavy reckoning for you, Sir; but the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want of meat, depart

reeling with too much drink ;- ***


and brain both

Cym. v. 4. Hanging is the word, Sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cook'd.

Cym. v. 4.

I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging! make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage! If he be not born to be hang'd, our case is miserable.

Some of the best of them were hereditary hangmen.


Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all.

T. i. 1.

C. ii. 1.


Cym. v. 5.

But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into through another man's eyes!

happiness A. Y. v. 2.


If it were now to die,

'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear,

My soul hath her content so absolute,

That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.


There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim:
Such harmony is in immortal souls ;—

But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.


Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he
Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make

Only my wars with him: he is a lion

That I am proud to hunt.

Nor sleep, nor sanctuary,

Being naked, sick: nor fane, nor capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,
Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home, upon my brother's guard, even there,

O. ii. 1.

M.V. v. 1.

C. i 1.

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