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You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face.
Thou wert dignified enough,
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made
Comparative for your virtues to be styl'd
The under hangman of his kingdom, and hated
For being preferr'd so well.
Cym. ii. 3.
Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. H. IV. PT. 1. i. 2.
The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor,
More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue,
From every meaner man's.
VOWS (See also LOVERS' VOWS, OATHS).
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows
Which break themselves in swearing.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows
They are polluted offerings, more abhor'd
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry,
P. P. v. 1.
The more she gives them speech.
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold.
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken.
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming,
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought
Put on for villany; not born, wher't grows;
But worn, a bait for ladies.
CONNUBIAL, FALSIFIED (See also INCONTINENCE).
Such an act,
That blurs the grace and blush of modesty;
Calls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose
From the fair forehead of an innocent love,
And sets a blister there; makes inarriage vows
As false as dicers' oaths.
Cym. iii. 4.
TC. v. 3. T.G. ii. 6.
A man, they say, that from very nothing, beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate. W. T. iv. 1.
And speed must answer it.
The time will not allow the compliment,
Which very manners urges.
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
Her business looks in her
With an importing visage.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan.
Banish usury, that makes the senate ugly.
A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd:
And he that stands upon a slippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
In the name of God,
How comes it then, that thou art call'd a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?
Those he commands, move only in command,
Nothing in love: now does he feel the title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.
A vice of kings;
A cut-purse of the empire and the rule;
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole
And put it in his pocket.
No hand of blood and bone
Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre,
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp.
Poor rogues, and usurers' men! bawds between gold and
T. A. ii. 2.
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant.
K. L. v. 3. R. III. v. 4.
Though't be a sportful combat,
Yet in the trial m opinion dwell
Nothing can seem foul to those that win.
A waggish courage;
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and
As quarrelous as a weasel.
T.C. i. 3.
H.IV. PT. 1. v. 1.
He that commends me to mine own content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the ocean seeks another drop;
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself.
Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek.
The grappling vigour, and rough frown of war.
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame,
Go to their graves like beds; fight for a plot,
The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of him; if the devil have him not in fee simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste, attempt us again. M. W. iv. 2.
WAR (See also BATTLE).
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
Slaves for pillage fighting,
Obdurate vassals, fell exploits effecting,
In bloody deaths and ravishments delighting;
Nor children's tears, nor mothers' groans respecting.
Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes;
Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,
Shall pierce a jot.
T. A. iv. 3.
K. J. iii. 1.
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause;
Which is not tomb enough, and continent,
To hide the slain.
Giving our holy virgins to the stain
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war.
Let it not disgrace me,
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub, or what impediment, there is,
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not, in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
Alas! she hath from France too long been chas'd;
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in its own fertility.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned, dies: her hedges even-pleach'd, -
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon; while that the coulter rusts,
That should deracinate such savagery:
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness; and nothing teems,
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country;
But grow, like savages,-as soldiers will,
That nothing do but meditate on blood,-
To swearing, and stern looks, diffus'd attire,
And every thing that seems unnatural.
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty,
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:
Now powers from home, and discontents at home,
Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits
(As doth a raven on a sick-fall'n beast)
The imminent decay of wrested pomp.
Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempest.
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire.
Now all the youth of Eugland are on fire,
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
Reigns solely in the breast of every man :
They sell the pasture now to buy the horse;
Following the mirror of all Christian kings,
With winged heels, as English Mercuries. H.V. ii. chorus.
Accursed and unquiet wrangling days!
How many of you have mine eyes beheld!
My husband lost his life to get the crown;
And often up and down my sons were toss'd,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain and loss;
And, being seated, and domestic broils
Clean overblown, themselves, the conquerors
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self. O preposterous
And frantic outrage! end thy damned spleen;
Or let me die, to look on death no more!
Two thousand souls, and twenty thousand ducats,
Will not debate the question of this straw:
This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace;
That inward breaks, and shows no cause without,
Why the man dies.
The toil of the war,
A pain that only seems to seek out danger
I' the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the search.
Cym. iii. 3.
Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch;
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel,
Must glove this hand: And hence, thou sickly quoif;
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up;
And the flesh'd soldier,―rough and hard of heart,—
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range
With conscience wide as hell; mowing like grass
Your fresh fair virgins and your flow'ring infants.
H. V. iii. 3.
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war. H. IV. PT. I. v. 1.
O war, thou son of hell,
Whom angry heavens do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our parts