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Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull,
Character of a noble Courtier.
Humility. The Count Rousillon cannot be
Helena's Hopeless Love for Bertram.
* Hand of a clock; the word clock in a previous line being used metaphorically.
I love your son :
Honour due to Personal Virtue, not to Birth. From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed : Where great additionst swell, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honour : good alone Is good, without a name; vileness is so :I The property by what it is should
go, Not by the title. She is
r; In these to nature she's immediate heir ; And these breed honour ; that is honour's scorn, Which challenges itself as honour's born, And is not like the sire : Honours best thrive,
* Captious and intenible sieve-able to receive, but not to retain.
I Good is good in itself, and so is vileness vile, without reference to worldly considerations.
When rather from our acts we them derive
Self-accusation of too great Love.
leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim ; move the still-piercing air, That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord ! Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to it; And, though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected : better 't were I met the ravin* lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger : better 't were That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Roussillou, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all; I will be gone : My being here it is that holds thee hence: Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although
The air of paradise did fan the house,
Life Chequered. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
A Cowardly Braggart. Yet am I thankful : if my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this : captain I'll be no more ! But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall: simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and, Parolles, live Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! There's place, and means,
every man alive.
Praise of a Lost Object.
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Excuse for Unreasonable Dislike. At first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue : Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warp'd the line of every other favour ; Scorn'd a fair colour, or express’d it stolen ; Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous object : thence it came, That she, whom all men praised, and whom myself, Since I have st, have loved, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
The play commences with a quarrel between the brothers Oliver and Orlando, sons of the deceased Sir Rowland de Bois, after which Orlando engages in a bout of wrestling with Charles, a noted wrestler, whom he overthrows. Rosalind and Celia, who are cousins, and inseparable friends, witness the combat, and the former falls in love with Orlando. The reigning Duke Frederick, father of Celia, has usurped the government and banished his brother, the rightful duke and father of Rosalind, from his dominions. The exiled duke retires with Jaques, a cynical lord, and other courtiers, to the forest of Arden, where he is followed by Rosalind and Celia, who are accompanied by Touchstone, a clownish servitor. Orlando, attended by Adam, an old and faithful servant,