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Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

H. VIII. iii. 2.
Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ?
Where be thy two sons ? wherein dost thou joy ?
Who sues, and kneels, and says—God save the queen ?
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee ?'
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.

R.III. iv. 4.
A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was, by a mousing owl, hawk'd at, and kill'd.

M. ii. 4.
An argument that he is pluck’d, when hither
He sends so poor a pinion of his wing,
Which had superfluous kings for messengers,
Not many moons gone by.

A.C. iii. 10.
O wither'd is the garland of the war,
The soldier's pole is fallen ; young boys, and girls,
Are level now with men ; the odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.

A.C. iv, 13.
O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lie so low?
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,
Shrunk to this little measure ?

J. C. iii. l.
'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too : What the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others,
As feel in his own fall :--for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer. T.C. ii.3.

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur’d me,
I humbly thank his grace ; and from these shoulders,
These ruin’d pillars, out of pity, taken
A load would sink a navy, too much honour :
0, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. H. VIII. iii. 2.
My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect,
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

H. VIII. v.2.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little. H. VIII, iv. 2.

What, amazed
At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder,
A great man should decline ? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

H. VIII. iü. 2.


But now,


There was the weight that pulld me down. O Cromwell,
The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine houours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master.

H. VIII. iii, 2.
Brave Percy: Fare thee well, great heart !
Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk !
When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound;


of the vilest earth
Is room enough.

H. IV. PT. I. v. 4.
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills :
And yet not so, for what can we bequeath,
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death;
And that small model of the barren earth,
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's sakė let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings
How some have been depos’d, some slain in war ;
Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos’d;
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ;
All murder'd.

R. II. iij. 2.
O, my lord,
Press not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue :
His faults lie open to the laws; let them,
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him
So little of his great self.

H. VIII. jii. 2.
I must now forsake ye; the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me.
And when


would say something that is sad,
Speak how I fell.

H. VIII. ii. 1.
Pry'thee go hence,
Or I shall show the cinders of my spirit
Through the ashes of my chance.

A.C. v. 2.
Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies
A lass unparalleld. Downy windows, close ;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal !


I am damned in hell, for swearing to gentlemen, my friends, you

were good soldiers, and tall fellows : and when Mistress Bridget lost the
handle of her fan, I took't upon mine honour, thou hadst it not.

M. W. ☺.2.
So are those crisped snaky golden locks,
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, often known
To be the dowry of a second head,
The scull that Þred them in the sepulchre.

M. V. m. 2.
Falser than vows made in wine.

A. Y. iii. 5. As false as dicers' oaths.

H. ii. 4. O what a goodly outside falsehood hath.

M. V. i.3. That same Diomed is a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses; he will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler the hound; but when he performs, astronomers foretel it ; it is prodigious; there will coine some change; the sun borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps his word.

T.C. v. l. FALSTAFF.

I have much to say on behalf of that Falstaff. H. IV. PT. 1. ii. 4. FAME (See also CELEBRITY).

Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live registerd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
The endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.

L.L. i. 1.
All-telling Fame.

L. L. ï. 1.
It deserves, with characters of brass,
A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time
And razure of oblivion.

M. M. v.l.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.

J. C. iii. 2.
Men's evil manners live in brass : their virtues
We write in water.

H. VIII. iv. 2.
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. R. III. iii. 1.
He lives in fame, that died in virtue's cause. Tit. And. i. 2.
After my death, I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.

H. VIII. iv. 2.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven!
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph.

H. IV.


PT,1, v. 4.


widow weeps.


Fame, at the which he aims,-
In whom already he is well grac’d,--cannot
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by
A place below the first : for what miscarries
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform
To the utmost of a man; and giddy censure
Will then cry out of Marcius, 0, if he
Had borne the business!

C. i. 1.
0, Harry, thou hast robb’d me of my youth,
I better brook the loss of brittle life,
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me;
They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword my flesh:
But thought's the slave of life, and life, time's fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop.

H. IV. PT. 1. v. 4.
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our designs.

T. C. i. 3. If a man do not erect, in this age, his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument, than the bell rings, and the *** An hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum.

M. A. v. 2. I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.

H. V. iii. 2. FANCY.

So full of shapes is fancy,
That it alone is high-fantastical.

T. N. i. 1. An old hat, and the humour of forty fancies stuck in it for a feather.

T. S. jii. 2.
Nature wants stuff
To vie strange forms with fancy.

A. C. v. 2.
Tell me, where is fancy bred;
Or in the heart, or in the head ?
How begot, how nourished ?
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed : and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.

M. V. iii. 2.
She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy.

A. W. y. 3.
We must every one be a man of his own fancy.

A. W. iy. 1. In maiden meditation, fancy-free.

M. N. ii. 2. FASHION.

See'st thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is ? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty ?

M. A. iii. 3. FASHION,-continued.

Eat, speak, and move, under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be fol. lowed.

A. W. ii. 1.

I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.

M. A. iii. 3.
New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. H. VIII. i. 3.

These remnants
Of fool and feather, that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto.

H. VIŅI, i. 3.
Death ! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too.

H. VIII, i. 3. Still, wars and letchery; nothing else holds fashion : a burning devil take them !

T. C. y. 2. FATE.

O heavens! that one might read the book of fate ;
And see the revolutions of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent
(Weary of solid firmness) melt itself
Into the sea ! and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean
Too wide for Neptune's hips : how chances mock,
And changes fill, the cup of alteration,
With divers liquors !

H. IV. IT. II. iii. 1.
What fates impose, that men must needs abide,
It boots not to resist both wind and tide. H. VI. Pt. II. iv. 3.

We defy augury ; there is a special providence the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all.

H. v. 2.
But, О vain boast!
Who can controul his fate ?

0. y. 2.
Well, heaven forgive him, and forgive us all!
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall :
Some run from brakes of vice and answer none;
And some condemned for one fault alone.

M. M. ii. 1.
If thou read this, O Cæsar, thou may'st live ;
If not, the fates with traitors do contrive.

J. C. ii. 3.
Men, at some times, are masters of their fates.

J.C. i. 2.
But, orderly to end where I begun,
Our wills and fates do so contrary run,
That our devices still are overthrown ;
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. H. iii. 2.

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