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Happy in this, she is not yet so old,
She did make defect, perfection, And, breathless, power breathe forth.
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety.
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
I have those hopes of her good, that her education promises her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity, they are virtues and traitors too; in her, they are the better for their simplenessa; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness.
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me,
To be ashamed to be my father's child!
My shame will hang upon my richest robes,
O constancy, be strong upon my side!
Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!
Qualities of good breeding and condition.
d Her excellences are the better because they are artless.
I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
She will outstrip all praise,
And make it halt behind her.
All, that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate;
She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her goodness, not to do more than she is requested
In any honest suit; she 's framed as fruitful
As the free elements.
Each your doing,
So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queen's.
She hath all courtly parts more exquisite,
i. e. May be counted among the gifts enjoyed by thee.
Than any lady, than all ladies, than all womankind.
She's a lady
So tender of rebukes that words are strokes,
For I am sick, and capables of fears;
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears.
Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.
All of her, that is out of door most rich,
Modest as justice, and thou seem'st a palace
Her very silence, and her patience,
A maiden hath no tongue but thought.
She dwells so securely on the excellency of her honour, that the folly of any soul dares not present itself; she is too bright to be looked against. 3-ii. 2.
She bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. 4-ii. 1.
Thy tender-hefted naturei shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort, and not burn.
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth.
Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle and low; an excellent thing in woman.
There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with it.
O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame,
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heartk, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd (Her sweet perfections) with one self king! 4—i. l.
She 'll not be hit
With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit;
A bosom agitated by tender passions.
Liver, brain, and heart, are admitted in poetry as the residence of passions, judgment and sentiment; these are what Shakspeare calls her sweet perfections.
And, in strong proof of chastity well-arm'd,
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
All matter else seems weak.
Make the doors m upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 't will out at the key-hole; stop that, 't will fly with the smoke out at the chimney. 10-iv. 1.
You have a nimble wit; I think it was made of Atalanta's heels. 10-iii. 2.
O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear! Of so high and plenteous wit and invention! 37-iv. 1.
Mistress, know yourself; down on your knees,
Sell when you can; you are not for all markets.
m Bar the doors.