DAGGERS. I will speak daggers to her, but use none. H. iii. 2.
DALLIANCE. Unseasonable. No, when light-wing'd toys Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dullness My speculative and active instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities Make head against my estimation. 0. i. 3.
A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath' d than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this ; They think, my little stomach to the war, And your great love to me, restrains you thus: Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. T. G iii. 3.
DANGER. There Monitaurs and ugly treason lurk. H. VI. pt. I. v. 3.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 1.
France, thou mayest hold a serpent by the tongue, A cased lion by the mortal paw, A fasting tyger safer by the tooth Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. K. J. iii.1.
"The purpose you undertake is dangerous :" — why, that's certain ; 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink ; — but I tell you, my
lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. H. IV. pt. I. ii. 3.
The welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 1.
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights — You pluck a thousand dangers on your head ; You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts Which honour and allegiance cannot think. R. II. ii. 1.
Blunt wedges rive hard knots : the seeded pride That hath to this maturity blown up ,In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd, Or,
shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, To overbulk us all. T. C. i. 3.
There is more in it than fair visage. H. VIII. iii. 2.
Old. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp Than with an old one dying. A.C. iii. 11.
DARING. As full of peril and adventurous spirit As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud On the uncertain footing of a spear.
H. IV. pt. I. i. 3
I'll cross it though it blast me. H. i. 1.
I dare damnation : To this point I stand. H. iv. 5.
DARKNESS. its Effect on the Faculty of Hearing. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes ; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense. M. N. iii. 2.
Mental. Madam, thou errest : I say, there is no darkness but ignorance ; in which thou art more puzzled, than the Egyptians in their fog.
T. N. iv. 2.
DAUGHTERS. Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters, By what you see them act. 0. i. 1.
DAWN. The third hour of drowsy morning. H. V. iv. chorus.
The silent hour steals on, And flaky darkness breaks within the east. R. III. v. 3.
And yon grey lines that fret the clouds, Are messengers of day. J.C. ii. 1.
This morning, like the spirit of youth That means to be of note, begins betimes. A. C. iv. 4.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night !— that dawning May bare the raven's eye. Cym. ii. 1.
But, look, the dawn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. H. i. 1.
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire. H. i. 5.
Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast; And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; At whose approach, ghosts wand'ring here and there. Troop home to church-yards : damned spirits all, That in cross-ways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone.
M. N. iii. 2.
The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. M. A. v. 3.
The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ; And flecked darkness like a
drunkard reels From forth day's path-way made by Titan's wheels. R. J. ii. 3.
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tip-toe on the misty mountain's top. R. J. iii. 5.
Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. M. M. iv. 2.
DAY. Even from Hyperion's rising in the east Until his very downfall in the sea. Tit. And. v. 2.
The stirring passage of the day. C. E. iii. 1.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, And overlooks the highest peering hills. Tit. And. ii. 1.
'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't. W. T. iii. 3.
0, such a day, So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won, Came not, till now, to dignify the times, Since Caesar's fortunes !
H. IV. pt. II. i. 1.
DEATH (See also Man, Time, Mighty Dead, Life, Soldier's Death). The blind cave of eternal night. R. III. v. 3.
Here is my journey's end ;. here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 0. v. 2.
O ruin'd piece of nature ! this great world Shall so wear out to nought. K. L. iv. 6.
Nay, nothing ; all is said : His tongue is now a stringless instrument ; Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. R. II. ii. 1.
Dead, for my life. Even so ; — my tale is told. L. L. v. 2 .
Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. R. II. iii. 2.
Art thou gone too ? all comfort go with thee ! For none abides with me : my joy is — death ; Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wish'd this world's eternity. H. VI. pt. II.ii. 4.
0, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. M. M. iii. 1.
I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me.
M. V. iv. 1.
All is but toys : renown, and grace, is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. M. ii. 3.
To-day, how many would have given their honours To have sav'd their carcasses ! took heel to do't, And yet died too ! I, in mine own
woe charm'd, Could not find death, where I did hear him groan ; Nor feel him, where he struck. Cym. v. 3.
It is too late ; the life of all this blood Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling house,)
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretel the ending of mortality. K. J. v. 7.
So now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death, R. III. iv. 4.
Thou know'st 'tis common ; all that live must die, Passing through nature to eternity. H. i. 2.
This fell serjeant death Is strict in his arrest. H. v. 5.
Dost fall ? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch Which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world It is not worth leave-taking. A. C. v. 2.
0. our lives' sweetness I That with the pain of death, we'd hourly die, Rather than die at once ! K.L.v. 3.
We must die, Messala: With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. J. C. iv. 3.
O amiable, lovely death I Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones ; And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows ; And ring these fingers with thy household
worms ; And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a carrion monster like thyself: Come, grin on me ; and I will think thou
smil'st ; And buss thee as thy wife ? Misery's love, 0, come to me ! K. J. iii. 4.
Eyes, look your last ! Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, you, The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death. R. J. v. 3.
Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity Is held from falling with so weak a wind, That it will quickly drop. H. IV. pt. II. iv. 4.
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with. M. iii. 4.
0, my love ! my wife ! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there. R. J. v. 3.
By medicine life may be prolong' d, yet death Will seize the doctor too. Cym. v. 5.
That we shall die, we know ; 'tis but the time, And drawing days out, that men stand upon. J. C. iii. 1.
Cowards die many times before their deaths ; Tke valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear ; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. J. C. ii. 2.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation. H. VI. pt.II. iii. 3.
Death remember'd, should be like a mirror, Who tells us, life's but a breath ; to trust it, error P. P. i. 1.
Oft have I seen a timely parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart ; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for. aidance 'gainst the enemy ; Which, with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 2.
The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. M. ii. 2.
Finish, good lady, the bright day is done, And we are for the dark. A.C. v. 2.
Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension , And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance feels a.
pang as great, As when a giant dies. M. M. iii. 1.
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. R. II. ii. 1.
O you mighty gods ! This world I do renounce ; and in your sights, Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should Burn itself out. K. L. iv. 6.
Her blood is settled and these joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated : Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. R. J. iv. 5.
To die, is to be banish'd from myself. T. G. iii. 1.
0, death's a great disguiser. M. M. iv. 2 .
We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. K. J. iv. 2.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot : This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world ; or to be worse than worst , Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death. M. M. iii. 1.
Where art thou, death ? Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen Worth many babes and beggars. A.C. v. 2.
Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die ? Famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, The world is not thy friend nor the world's law. R. J. v. 1.
Receive what cheer you may ; The night is long that never finds a day. M. iv. 3.
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence. H. VI. pt. I. ii. 5.
I am resolv'd for death or dignity. H. VI. pt. II. v. 1.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, When death's approach is seen so terrible ! H. VI. pt. II. iii. 3.
The worst is, — death, and death will have his day. R. II. iii. 2.
He has walk'd the way of nature. H.IV. pt. II. v. 2.
Pr'ythee, have done, And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration, what Is now due debt. To the grave. Cym. iv. 2.
— of Buckingham, the Duke of. All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, And by that name must die ; yet, heaven bear witness, And if I have a conscience let it sink me, Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful ! You few that lov'd me, And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends,
and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go with me like good angels, to my end ; And as the long divorce of steel falls
on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name. H.VIII. ii.1.
Falstaff. 'A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child ; 'a parted just between twelve and one ; — e'en at the turning of the tide : for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers, ends, I knew there was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, Sir John, quoth I : what, man ! be of good cheer. So 'a cried out, God ! — three or four times : now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet.. H.V.ii. 3.
Gloucester, Humphrey, Duke of. But, see, his face is black and full of blood ; His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man ; His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking ; His well-proportion'd beard made rough
and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempests lodg'd. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 2.
King Henry IV. By his gates of breath, There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. — My gracious lord ! my father ! This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep, That from this golden rigol hath
divorc'd So many English kings. H. IV. pt. II. iv. 4.
King Henry VI. I'll hear no more. — Die, prophet, in thy speech ; For this among the rest was I ordain'd. — What, will the aspiring
blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have mounted See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 0, may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfall of our house ! If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down, to hell ; and say, — I sent thee thither. H. VI. pt. III. v. 6.
King John. Aye, marry, now my soul hath elbow room ; It would not out at windows nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, That all my bowels crumble up to dust : I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen, Upon a parchment ; and against this fire Do I shrink up. Prince Henry. — How fares your Majesty ? King John. — Poison'd, — ill fare ; — dead, forsook, cast off: And none of you will bid the winter come, And thrust his icy fingers in my maw ; Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north To make his break winds kiss my parched lips, And comfort me with cold : I do not ask you much I beg cold comfort. [Enter Falconbridge. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye : The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ; And all the shrouds wherewith my
life should sail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair : My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be
utter' d ; And then all this thou see'st is but a clod, And module of confounded royalty. K. J. v. 7.
Julius Caesar. El tu Brute ?— Then fall, Csesar. J. C. iii. 1.
How many ages hence, Shall this our lofty scene be acted over, In states unborn and accents yet unknown ! J C. iii. 1.
King Richard II. How now ? what means death in this rude assault ? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. Go thou and fill another room in hell. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand Hath, with the king's blood, stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high ; Whilst my gross-flesh sinks downward here to lie. R.II. v. 5.
Warwick, Earl of. Ah, who is nigh ? come to me, friend or foe. And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick ? Why ask I that ? my
mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, That I must yield my body to the earth, And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept : Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes
that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world : The wrinkles in my brow's now fill'd with blood, Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; For who liv'd king but I could dig his grave. Lo, now my glory, smear'd in dust and blood ! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me ; and, of all my lands, Is nothing left
me but my body's length I Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust ? And, live we how we can, yet, die we must.
H. VI. pt. III. v. 2.
Wolsey, Cardinal. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot, With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ; To whom he gave these words, — 0, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay
his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity I So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness Pursued him still ; and, three days after this, About the hour of eight (which he himself Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, — and slept in peace.
H.VIII.iv.2.
of the Illustrious, by vile hands. Great men oft die by vile bezonians : A Roman sworder and banditti slave, Murder'd sweet Tully ;
Brutus' bastard hand Stabb'd Julius Csesar ; savage islanders Pompey the great : and Suffolk dies by pirates. H. VI. pt. II. iv. 1. Contempt op. There spake my brother ; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice ! Yes, thou must die Thou art too noble to
conserve a life In base appliances. M. M. iii. 1.
Levels Distinctions. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax' When neither are alive. Cym. iv. 2.
Abides with the Luxurious. Being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war. Cym. v. 3.
Relieves and prevents Miseries. Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change. A. C. v. 2.
Duncan is in his grave ; After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ; Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison. Malice domestic,
foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further. M. iii. 2.
Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time, for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality.
M. ii. 3.
Give me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well ? Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
Than is her custom : it is still her use, To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow, An age of poverty ; from which ling'ring penance Of such a misery doth she cut me off. M. V. iv. 1.
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts off as many years of fearing death . J.C. iii. 1.
Untimely. Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd ; No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head. H. i. 5.
DEATH BED Injunction. 0, but they say, the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony : Where words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain : For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. He, that no more may say, is listen'd more Than
they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze ; More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before ; The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last ; Writ in remembrance, more than things long past : Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. R. II. ii. 1.
DEBT. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves ; Creditors ! — devils. T. A. iii. 4.
DEBTS. Desperate. These debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em. T. A. iii. 4.
DECAY. My way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf. M. v. 3.
DECEIT. You are abus'd, and, by some putter on That will be damn'd for't ; — would I knew the villain W.T.ii. 1.
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast. R. III. iii. 4.
DECREPITUDE. You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age ; wretched in both. K. L. ii. 4.
I am old now, And these same crosses spoil me. K. L.v. 3.
Pray do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward ; and to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
K. L.. iv. 7.
But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. A. W. i. 2.
DEFEATED. Thou art not vanquish'd. But cozen' d and beguil'd. K. L. v. 3.
DEFIANCE. Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. J. C. v. 1.
Marry, Thou, thou dost wrong me ; thou dissembler, thou : — Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. M. A. v. 1.
What man dare, I dare : Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tyger, Take any shape
but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble : Or, be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me The baby of a girl. M. iii. 4.
And spur thee on, with full as many lies As may be holla' d in thy treacherous ear From sun to sun. R. II. iv. 1.
Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say ; By heaven, I think my sword as sharp as yours : I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence ; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. K. J. iv. 3.
Who sets me else ? by heaven, I'll throw at all : I have a thousand spirits in one breast, To answer twenty thousand such as you.
R. II. iv. 1.
Health to you, valiant Sir, During all the question of the gentle truce ; But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, As heart can think,
or courage execute. T. C. iv. 1.
Win me and wear me,-- -let him. answer me, — Come, follow me, boy ; come, boy, follow me : Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining
fence ; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. M. A. v. 1.
What I did, I did in honour, Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ; And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestall'd remission. H. IV. pt. II. v. 2.
There is my gage, the manual seal of death, That marks thee out for hell : I say, thou liest, And will maintain what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart blood, though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword. R. II. iv 1.
If that thy valour stand on sympathies, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine : By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, That thou wert cause of noble Glo'ster's death. If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest ;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. R. II. iv. 1.
Shall I be flouted thus with dunghill grooms ! H.VI. pt. I. i. 3.
Scorn, and defiance ; slight regard, contempt, And any thing that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
H. V. ii. 4.
Though I am not splenetive and rash, Yet have I in me something dangerous, Which let thy wisdom fear. H. v. 1.
I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face, Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.
H.VI. pt. III. v. 1.
I will fight with him upon this theme, Until my eye-lids will no longer wag. H. v. 1.
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying ; pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy
at the price of one fair word. C. iii. 3.
You fools ! I and my fellows Are ministers of fate ; the elements Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds,
or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume. T. iii 3.
Thou injurious tribune ! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch' d as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, Thou liest, unto thee, with voice as free As I do pray the gods. C. iii. 3.
Let them come ; They come like sacrifices in their trim, And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war, All hot and bleeding will we offer them ;
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit Up to the ears in blood. H. IV. pt. I. iv. 1.
I do defy him, and I spit at him ; Call him a slanderous coward, and'a villain. R. II. i. 1.
Gentle heaven, Cut off all intermission ; front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too ! M. iv. 3.
Let him do his spite : My services, which I have done the signiory Shall out-tongue his complaints. 0. i. 2.
DEFORMITY. Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature
with a bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ; To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body ; To shape my legs of an unequal size ; To disproportion me in every part ; Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, That
carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd ? 0, monstrous fault to harbour such a thought !
H. VI. pt. III. iii. 2.
But I, — that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking glass , I that am rudely stampt, and want love's majesty, To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable,
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them : — Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless
to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity. R. III. i. 1.
But, 0, how vile an idol proves this god ! Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature there's no blemish but the mind ; None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind : Virtue is beauty ; but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o'er-flourish'd by the devil.
T. N. iii. 4.
DEGENERACY. But, woe the while ! our fathers' minds are dead, And we are govern'd by our mothers' spirits ; Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. J. C. i. 3.
0, that a mighty man of such descent, Of such possessions, and so high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit !
T. S. Ind. 2.
What a falling off was there ! H. i. 5.
But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic ; And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands Against a falling fabric. C. iii. 1.
For in the fatness of these pursy times, Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg. H. iii. 4.
'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed, by order of law, a furred gown to keep him warm ; and furred with fox and lambskins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
M.M. iii. 2.
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days, Or fill up chronicles in time to come, That men of your nobility and power, Did 'gage them
both in an unjust behalf, — As both of you, God pardon it ! have done ? H. IV. pt. I. i. 3.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch; Since every Jack became a gentleman, There's many a gentle person made a Jack. R. III. i. 3.
DEGRADATION. Now I must To the young man send humble treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts of lowness. A.C. iii. 9.
DEGREES. So man and man should be ; But clay and clay differs in dignity "Whose dust is both alike. Cym. iv. 2.
DELAY (See also Irresolution, Opportunity). Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger ; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Ev'n then when we sit idly in the sun. T. C. iii. 3.
Sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. R. J. i. 4.
Come, — I have learn'd that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary.
R.III.iv. 3.
Let's be revenged on him : let's appoint him a meeting ; give him a show of comfort in his suit ; and lead him on with a fine-baited delay.
M. W. ii. 1.
0, my good lord, that comfort comes too late ; 'Tis like a pardon after execution ; That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me ; But now I'm past all comfort here, but prayers. H. VIII. iv. 2.
DELICACY of Idleness The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. H.v.1.
DELIGHTS. All delights are vain ; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain. L.L.i.1.
These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder, Which as they kiss, consume ; the sweetest
honey Is loathsome in its own dehciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore, love moderately ; long love doth so ; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow . R.J. ii. 6.
DELIRIUM OF THE Dying. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes, In their continuance will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them insensible ; and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies ; Which in their throng and press to that last hold, . Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should
sing. I am the cygnet to this pale-fac'd swan, Who chaunts a doleful hymn to his own death ; And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest. K.J. v. 7.
DELUSION (See also Illusion). 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes : our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Cym. iv. 2.
Oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths ; Win us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence. M. i. 3.
And be these juggling fiends no more believ d, That palter with us in a double sense ; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And
break it to our hope. M. v. 7.
Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. T.N. ii. 5.
Thus may poor fools believe false teachers. Cym. iii. 4.
This is the very coinage of your brain This bodiless creation extacy Is very cunning in. H. iii. 4. .
Alas, how is't with you ? That you do bend your eyes on vacancy, And with the incorporal air do hold discourse ? H. iii. 4.
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ; Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. H. iii. 4.
Indeed, it is a strange disposed time : But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. J.C. i. 3.
DENIAL of Justice (See also Judgment, Justice). And is this all ? Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience ; and, with ripen' d time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapp'd up In countenance ! M. M. v. 1.
DEPRAVITY, Youthful. You're a fair viol, and your sense the strings ; Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to hearken ; But, being play'd upon before your time, Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. P.P. i. 1.
DEPRIVATION of things discloses their Value. What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again. A. C. i. 2.
DEPUTY. A substitute shines brightly as a king, Until a king be by ; and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. M. V. v. 1.
In our remove, be thou at full ourself ; Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart. M. M. i. 1.
DERANGEMENT, Mental (See also Despondency, Madness). A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ; Past speaking of in a king.
K. L. iv. 6.
DESCRIPTION. I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. P. P. iv. 3.
0, he hath drawn my picture in his letter ! L. L. v. 2.
DESDEMONA. A maid That paragons description, and wild fame ; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in the essential vesture of creation, Does bear all excellency. 0. ii. 1.
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, — Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, — As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona. 0. ii. 1.
DESERT. Use every man according to his desert, and who shall escape whipping? use them after your own honour and dignity : the
less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. H. ii. 2.
0, your desert speaks loud ; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time, And razure of oblivion. M. M. v. 1.
But let desert in pure election shine. Tit. And. i. 1.
DESERTION. Him did you leave, Second to none, unseconded by you. H. IV. pt. II. ii. 2.
DESIGNATION. We call a nettle but a nettle ; and The faults of fools but folly. C. ii. 1.
DESIRE. The cloyed will (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, That tub both fill'd and running) ravening first The lamb, longs after for
the garbage. Cym. i. 7.
Happy ! but most miserable Is the desire that's glorious. Blessed be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills Which seasons comfort. Cym. 1. 7.
DESOLATION. I, an old turtle, .. Will wing me to some wither'd bough ; and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. W.T. v. 3.
Then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit ; but in one night, A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to wither. Cym. iii. 3.
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep for me, Almost no grave allow'd me ; — like the lily, That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, I'll hang my head and perish. H. VIII. iii. 1.
Alack, and what shall good old York there see, But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ? And what cheer there for welcome but my groans ? Therefore commend me, let him not come there, To seek out sorrow that dwells every where : Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die ; The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. R. II. i. 2.
DESPAIR. 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. K. J. iii. 4.
I will despair, and be at enmity With cozening hope ; he is a flatterer, A parasite, a keeper back of death, Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Which false hope lingers in extremity. R. II. ii. 2.
Now let not Nature's hand Keep the wild flood confin'd ! Let order die ! And let this world no longer be a stage, To feed contention in a lingering act ; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene
may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead. H. IV. pt. II. i. 1.
O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me ; That life, a very rebel to my will, May hang
no longer on me ; throw my heart Against the flint and hardness of my fault ; Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder. And
finish all foul thoughts. A. C. iv. 9.
I pull in resolution ; and begin To doubt the equivocation of th fiend, That lies like truth. M. v. 5.
0, I am fortune's fool ! R J. iii. 1.
I shall despair. — There is no creatine loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me ; — Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself. R.III. v. 3.
For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea ; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting
ever when some envious surge Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him. Tit. And. iii. 1.
They have tied me to the stake, I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. M. v. 7.
Take the hint Which my despair proclaims ; let that be left Which leaves itself. A.C. iii. 9.
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun, And wish the estate of the world were now undone. M. v. 5.
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair. C. iii. 3.
My very hairs do mutiny ; for the white Reprove the brown for rashness ; and they them For fear and doting. A.C. iii. 9.
DESPATCH. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly. M. i. 7.
Come, to the forge with it then; shape it; I would not have things cool. M. W. iv. 2.
It makes us, or it mars us ; think on that, And fix most firm thy resolution. 0. v. 1.
Briefness, and fortune, work. K. L. ii. 1.
We must do something, and i' the heat. K. L. i. 1.
DESPERATION. Some say he's mad ; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury ; but for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper' d cause Within the belt of rule. M. v. 2.
Fortune knows, We scorn her most when most she offers blows. A.C. iii. 9.
Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight ! Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur ! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! O Desdemona ! O. v. 2.
Our enemies have beat us to the pit : It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us . J.C. v. 5.
Yet I will try the last : Before my body I throw my warlike shield ; lay on, Macduff; And damn'd be he that first cries " Hold ! Enough I"
M. v. 7.
Ring the alarum bell : Blow wind, come wrack ! At least we'll die with harness on our back. M. v. 5.
The time and my intents are savage wild ; More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea. R. J. v. 3.
Now could I drink hot blood, And do such business as the bitter day Would quake to look on. H. iii. 2.
No, I defy, all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress, Death, death. K. J. iii. 4.
O all you host of heaven ! earth ! — what else ? And shall I couple hell ? — fie ! — Hold, hold, my heart ; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. H. i. 5.
Ah, women, women ! come ; we have no friend But resolution and the briefest end. A. C. iv. 13.
DESPONDENCY (See also Derangement, Madness). I am not mad ; I would to heaven I were ! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: 0, if I could, what grief should I forget ! K. J. iii. 4.
Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal ; For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver' d of these woes, And teaches me to kill or hang myself. K. J. iii. 4.
I am sick of this false world ; and will love nought But. even the mere necessities upon it. Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave ; Lie, where the light foam of the sea may beat Thy grave-stone daily. T. A. iv. 3.
How stiff is my vile sense, That I stand up and have ingenious feeling Of my huge sorrows ! better I were distract ; So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs ; And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose The knowledge of themselves. K L. iv. 6.
0, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew ! Or, that the everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst
self-slaughter ! God ! God ! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on't ! fie on't ! 'tis an
unweeded garden, That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely. H. i. 2.
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer. T. iii. 3.
I have not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have. R. III. v. 3.
Nothing I'll bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town ! Timon will to the woods ; where he shall find The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. T. A. iv. 1.
What say you now ? what comfort have we now ? By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly, That bids me be of comfort any more.
R. II. iii. 2.
DESTINY. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. R. III. iv. 4.
The lottery of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing. M.V. ii. 1.
The antient saying is no heresy : — Hanging and wiving go by destiny. M. V. ii. 9.
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death. 0. iii. 3.
DESTITUTION. Who gives any thing to poor Tom ? K. L. iii. 4.
DETERIORATION. When nobles are their tailors' tutors. K. L. iii. 2.
The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wip'd it out. 0. v. 3.
DETERMINATION (See also Resolution). I have given suck ; and know How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me : I would, while
it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as You have done
to this. M. i. 7.
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace. H. i. 2.
Cannot, is false ; and that I dare not, falser ; I will not come to-day : tell them so, Decius. J.C. ii. 2.
Shall I stay here to do't ; no, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house, And angels offic'd all : I will be gone. A. W. iii. 2.
It was my will and grant ; And for this once, my will shall stand for law. H. VI. pt. III. iv. 1.
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. R. II. ii. 1.
My resolution, and my hands I'll trust ; None about Caesar. A. C. iv. 13.
I am fire and air ; my other elements I give to baser life. A. C. v. 2.
DETRACTION. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
T. N. ii 5.
Happy are they that hear their detractions, and put them to mending. M. A. ii. 3.
DEVICE. What a slave art thou to hack thy sword as thou hast done ; and then say, it was in fight ! H. IV. pt. I. ii. 4.
DEVIL. Heaven prosper our sport ! No one means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. M. W. v. 1.
A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick ; on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all, all, quite lost ; And as, with age,
his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers. T. iv. 1.
DEVOTION. My heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord : I saw Othello's visage in his mind ; And to his honour and his
valiant parts, Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. O. i. 3 .
My best attires : — I am again for Cydnus, To meet Marc Antony. A.C. v. 2.
Yours in the ranks of death. K. L. iv. 2.
A true devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps. T. G. ii.7.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it. L. L. v. 2.
From the four corners of the earth they come, To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. M. V. ii. 7.
Pious.
With modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneel'd, and saint-like Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. H.VIII. iv. 1.
DEW. And that same dew which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flow'ret's eyes, Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. M. N. iv. 1.
I must go seek some dew-drops here, And hang a pearl on every cowslip's ear. M. N. ii. 1.
As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers. Tit. And. ii. 4.
DIFFIDENCE. A tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke, That it intends to do. K. L. i. 1.
DIGNITY. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. — Pistol, I will double charge thee with dignities. H.IV. pt. II. v. 3.
Nothing but death, Shall e'er divorce my dignities. H. VIII. iii. 1.
DIGRESSION. Shifted out of thy tale, into telling me of the fashion. M. A. iii. 3.
DILIGENCE. He'll watch the horologe a double set. O. ii. 3.
DINNER. He had not din'd : The veins unfill'd, the blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive ;
but when we have stuff d These pipes and these conveyances of our blood. With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts ; therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him. C. v. 1.
DIRGE. I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with thee ; For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.
Cym. iv. 2.
DISASTERS. Checks and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ; As knots, by the confl'ux of meeting sap, Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain Tortive and errant from his course and growth. T. C. i. 3.
Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ; And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought else, But the protractive trials of great Jove. T.C. i. 3.
DISCLOSURE. You shall see, anon ; 'tis a knavish piece of work. H. iii. 2.
DISCONTENT. What's more miserable than discontent ? H. VI. pt. II. iii. 1.
Happiness courts thee in her best array ; But like a misbehav'd and sullen wench, Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love : Take
heed, take heed, for such die miserable. R. J. iii. 3.
With what a majesty he bears himself; How insolent of late he is become, How proud, peremptory, and unlike himself!
H. VI. pt. II.iii.1.
Popular. And the pretence for this Is nam'd, your wars in France : this makes bold mouths ; Tongues spit their duties out, and cold
hearts freeze Allegiance in them ; their curses now, Live where their prayers did ; and it's come to pass, That tractable obedience is a slave To each incensed will. H.VIII. i. 2.
DISCRETION. For 'tis not good that children should know any wickedness : old folks, you know, have discretion, as they say, and
know the world. M. W. ii. 2.
DISGUISE. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. T. N. ii. 2.
DISINTERESTEDNESS. 0, good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service
sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion ; And having that, do choke their service up, Even with the having. A. Y. ii. 3.
DISLIKE. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth, And bowl'd to death with turnips. M. W. iii. 4.
DISMAY (See also Fear, Terror). Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such
a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd. But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue. H.IV. pt. II. i. 1.
His death (whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,) Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best temper'd courage in his troops ; For from his metal was his party steel'd ; Which once in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves,
like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself, Upon enforcement, flies with greater speed ; So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear. That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim, Than did our soldiers,
aiming at their safety, Fly from the field. H. IV. pt. II. i. 1.
DISMISSAL. Cassio, I love thee ; But never more be officer of mine. 0. ii. 3.
How ! what does his cashier'd worship mutter ? T. A. iii. 4.
Silent. Dismiss'd me Thus, with his speechless hand. C. v. 1.
DISORDER. But they did no more adhere and keep place together, than the hundredth psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves.
M. W. ii.1.
For night owls shriek, where mounting larks should sing. R. II. iii. 3.
DISPERSION. Our army is dispers'd already ; Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries towards his home and sporting place. H. IV. pt. II. iv. 2.
DISPLEASURE, Rash. Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave.
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends, and after, weep their dust : Our own love waking cries to see what's done, While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. A. W. v. 3.
DISPROPORTION. 0, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil. 0. v. 2.
DISQUIET. Look where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever med'cine thee
to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday . 0. iii. 3.
Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me. H. i. 2.
DISSIMULATION (See Hypocrisy, Quoting Scripture). We are oft to blame in this ; — 'Tis too much prov'd, — that with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do sugar o'er The devil himself. H. iii. 1.
Divinity of hell ! When devils will their blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows. 0. ii. 3.
If I do not put on a sober habit, Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; Nay
more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes Thus — with hat, and sigh, and say, amen ; Use all the observance of civility, Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more . M. V. ii. 2.
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile ; And cry content to that which grieves my heart ; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. H. VI. pt. III. iii. 2.
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains, Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love, Which is indeed but
sign. 0. i. 1.
Where we are There's daggers in men's smiles ; the near in blood, The nearer bloody. M. ii. 3.
In following him I follow but myself ; Heaven is my judge, not I for love or duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end : For when my
outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, 'tis not long after, But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve, For daws to peck at. I am not what I am. O. i. 1.
To beguile the time, Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the
serpent under it. M. i. 5.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show, False face must hide what the false heart doth know. M. i. 7.
Good now, play one scene, Of excellent dissembling ; and let it look Like perfect honour. A.C. i. 3.
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 2.
And with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts. W. T. i. 2.
You vow, and swear, and super-praise my parts, When I am sure you hate me in your hearts. M. N. iii. 2.
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on. H. i. 5.
DISTINCTION. Art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular ? H. V. iv. 1.
Unbecoming. It lies as sightly on the back of him, As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass. K. J. ii. 1.
DISTRACTION. Contending with the fretful elements ; Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease : tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury and make nothing of: Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-an-fro-conflicting wind and rain. K.L. iii. 1.
DISTRESS. The thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility. A. Y. ii. 7.
DISTURBERS. Who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their functions freely. C. v. 6.
DISUNION. When that the general is not like the hive, To whom the foragers shall all repair, What honey is expected ? T.C.i.3.
How, in one house, Should many people, under two commands, Hold amity ? 'Tis hard, almost impossible. K. L. ii. 4.
DOOM. Away ! By Jupiter, This shall not be revok'd. K.L. i. 1 .
DOTARD. The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out ; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. A. W. iii. 2.
DOVER Cliffs. How fearful And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes below ! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce
so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade ! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head :
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice ; and yon tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock ; her cock, a buoy,
Almost too small for sight: The murm'ring surge, That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high : I'll look no
more ; Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong. K. L. iv. 6.
DRAMAS. The best of this kind are but shadows ; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. M. N. v. 1.
DREAMS. I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; Which is as thin of substance as the air ; And more inconstant than the wind, which wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew -dropping south. R. J. i. 4.
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream ; — past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. M. N. iv. 1.
'Tis still a dream ; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue and brain out ; either both, or nothing ; Or senseless speaking, or a speaking
such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy. Cym. v. 4.
By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, Armed in proof, led on by shallow Richmond. R. III. v. 3.
Poor wretches, that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done, Awake, and find nothing. Cym. v. 4.
This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep Did mock sad fools withal. P. P. v. 1.
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; Cry, Courage ! — to the field ! And thou hast talk'd Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, And all the currents of a heady fight.
H. IV. pt. l. ii. 3.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,. And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, Like bubbles on a late disturbed stream : And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, ' Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden haste. H. IV. pt. I. ii. 3.
There is some ill a-brewing toward my rest, For I did dream of money bags to-night. M. V. ii. 5.
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls. R. III. v. 3.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs. C. iii. 8.
DRESS (See also Advice to a Young Man). For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit. T. S. iv. 3.
What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye ? T. S. iv. 3.
And now, my honey love, We will return unto thy father's house ; And revel it as bravely as the best ; With silken coats, and caps, and
golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things : With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery, And amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his rustling treasure. T. S. iv. 3.
My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person all this while : Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, Myself to be a marvellous proper man. I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; And entertain a score or two of tailors, To study fashions to adorn my body. Since I am crept in favour with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost. R. III. i. 2.
The gown ? why, ay ; — Come, tailor, let us see't. O mercy, God ! what masking stuff is here ? What's this ? a sleeve ? 'tis like a
demi-cannon : What ! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart ? Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash, Like to a censer in a barber's shop : — Why, what, o' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this ? T. S. iv. 3.
Cloten. — Thou villain base, Know'st thou not me by my cloaths ? Guiderius. — No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather : he
made those cloaths, Which, as it seems, make thee. Cym. iv. 2.
I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean ; nor believe he can have every thing in him for keeping his apparel neatly.
A. W. iv. 3.
DROWNING. Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of water in my ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon. R. III. i. 4.
Often did I strive To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air : But smother'd it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. R. III. i. 4.
A pox of drowning thyself ! it is clean out of the way. 0. i. 3.
DRUMS. Strike up the drums : and let the tongue of war Plead for our interest. K. J. v. 2.
Do but stir An echo with the clamour of thy drum, And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ; Sound but another, and another shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, And mock the deep mouth'd thunder. K. J. v. 2.
He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. A.W. v. 3.
I'll no more drumming ; a plague of all drums. A.W.iv. 3.
DRUNKARD (See Wine). A howling monster : a drunken monster. T. iii. 2.
O that men should put an enemy into their mouths, to steal away their brains !— that we should, with joy revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts ! O.ii.3.
O monstrous beast ! — how like a swine he lies ! T. S. Ind. 1.
When he is best, he is little worse than a man ; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast. M.W. i. 2.
Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil. O. ii. 3.
Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman ; one draught above heat makes him a fool ; the second mads him ; and a third drowns him.
T. N. i. 4.
You see this fellow that is gone before ; — He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction : and do but see his vice ; 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as th' other. 0. ii. 3.
I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell me, I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all.
To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast. 0. ii. 3.
One drunkard loves another of the name. L. L. iv. 3.
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence As my young mistress' dog. 0. ii. 3.
I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. M. A. iii. 3.
And now, in madness, Being full of supper, and distempering draughts, Upon malicious bravery dost thou come, To start my quiet.
0. i. 1.
They were red hot with drinking ; So full of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground For kissing of their feet. T. iv. 1.
Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk ; — this is my antient ; — this is my right hand, and this my left hand : — I am not drunk : — I can stand well enough ; and speak well enough : Why, very well then ; you must not think then that I am drunk. 0. ii. 3.
Pious. I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick : if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. M. W. i. 1.
DUELLIST. Room for the incensed worthies. L. L.v. 2.
Thou art one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when indeed, there is no need. R.J. iii. 1.
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill, What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill. T.A. iii. 5.
Your words have took such pains, as if they labour'd To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling Upon the head of valour; which, indeed, Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were but newly born. T. A. iii. 5.
He is a devil in a private brawl : souls and bodies hath he divorced three ; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre; hob, nob, is his word; give't or take 't. T.N. iii. 4.
DUEL Prevented. Boys of art, I have deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong places : your hearts are mighty, and your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the islue M. W. iii. 1.
DULNESS. Cudgel your brains no more about it; for your dull ass will never mend his pace with beating. H. v. 1.
DUNS. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would; are sorry
— you are honourable,- But yet they could have wish'd— they knew not— but Something hath been amiss— a noble nature May catch
a wrench— would all were well— 'tis pity— And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions,
With certain half caps, and cold moving nods, They froze me into silence. T.A. ii. 2.
DUPE. Whose nature is so far from doing harms, That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy.
K.L. i. 2.
DALLIANCE. Unseasonable. No, when light-wing'd toys Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dullness My speculative and active instruments, That my disports corrupt and taint my business, Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, And all indign and base adversities Make head against my estimation. 0. i. 3.
A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath' d than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this ; They think, my little stomach to the war, And your great love to me, restrains you thus: Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. T. G iii. 3.
DANGER. There Monitaurs and ugly treason lurk. H. VI. pt. I. v. 3.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 1.
France, thou mayest hold a serpent by the tongue, A cased lion by the mortal paw, A fasting tyger safer by the tooth Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. K. J. iii.1.
"The purpose you undertake is dangerous :" — why, that's certain ; 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink ; — but I tell you, my
lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. H. IV. pt. I. ii. 3.
The welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 1.
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights — You pluck a thousand dangers on your head ; You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts Which honour and allegiance cannot think. R. II. ii. 1.
Blunt wedges rive hard knots : the seeded pride That hath to this maturity blown up ,In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd, Or,
shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, To overbulk us all. T. C. i. 3.
There is more in it than fair visage. H. VIII. iii. 2.
Old. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp Than with an old one dying. A.C. iii. 11.
DARING. As full of peril and adventurous spirit As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud On the uncertain footing of a spear.
H. IV. pt. I. i. 3
I'll cross it though it blast me. H. i. 1.
I dare damnation : To this point I stand. H. iv. 5.
DARKNESS. its Effect on the Faculty of Hearing. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes ; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense. M. N. iii. 2.
Mental. Madam, thou errest : I say, there is no darkness but ignorance ; in which thou art more puzzled, than the Egyptians in their fog.
T. N. iv. 2.
DAUGHTERS. Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters, By what you see them act. 0. i. 1.
DAWN. The third hour of drowsy morning. H. V. iv. chorus.
The silent hour steals on, And flaky darkness breaks within the east. R. III. v. 3.
And yon grey lines that fret the clouds, Are messengers of day. J.C. ii. 1.
This morning, like the spirit of youth That means to be of note, begins betimes. A. C. iv. 4.
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night !— that dawning May bare the raven's eye. Cym. ii. 1.
But, look, the dawn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. H. i. 1.
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire. H. i. 5.
Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast; And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; At whose approach, ghosts wand'ring here and there. Troop home to church-yards : damned spirits all, That in cross-ways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone.
M. N. iii. 2.
The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. M. A. v. 3.
The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ; And flecked darkness like a
drunkard reels From forth day's path-way made by Titan's wheels. R. J. ii. 3.
It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tip-toe on the misty mountain's top. R. J. iii. 5.
Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. M. M. iv. 2.
DAY. Even from Hyperion's rising in the east Until his very downfall in the sea. Tit. And. v. 2.
The stirring passage of the day. C. E. iii. 1.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, And overlooks the highest peering hills. Tit. And. ii. 1.
'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't. W. T. iii. 3.
0, such a day, So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won, Came not, till now, to dignify the times, Since Caesar's fortunes !
H. IV. pt. II. i. 1.
DEATH (See also Man, Time, Mighty Dead, Life, Soldier's Death). The blind cave of eternal night. R. III. v. 3.
Here is my journey's end ;. here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. 0. v. 2.
O ruin'd piece of nature ! this great world Shall so wear out to nought. K. L. iv. 6.
Nay, nothing ; all is said : His tongue is now a stringless instrument ; Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. R. II. ii. 1.
Dead, for my life. Even so ; — my tale is told. L. L. v. 2 .
Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound And lie full low, grav'd in the hollow ground. R. II. iii. 2.
Art thou gone too ? all comfort go with thee ! For none abides with me : my joy is — death ; Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wish'd this world's eternity. H. VI. pt. II.ii. 4.
0, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. M. M. iii. 1.
I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me.
M. V. iv. 1.
All is but toys : renown, and grace, is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. M. ii. 3.
To-day, how many would have given their honours To have sav'd their carcasses ! took heel to do't, And yet died too ! I, in mine own
woe charm'd, Could not find death, where I did hear him groan ; Nor feel him, where he struck. Cym. v. 3.
It is too late ; the life of all this blood Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling house,)
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretel the ending of mortality. K. J. v. 7.
So now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death, R. III. iv. 4.
Thou know'st 'tis common ; all that live must die, Passing through nature to eternity. H. i. 2.
This fell serjeant death Is strict in his arrest. H. v. 5.
Dost fall ? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch Which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world It is not worth leave-taking. A. C. v. 2.
0. our lives' sweetness I That with the pain of death, we'd hourly die, Rather than die at once ! K.L.v. 3.
We must die, Messala: With meditating that she must die once, I have the patience to endure it now. J. C. iv. 3.
O amiable, lovely death I Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness ! Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones ; And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows ; And ring these fingers with thy household
worms ; And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a carrion monster like thyself: Come, grin on me ; and I will think thou
smil'st ; And buss thee as thy wife ? Misery's love, 0, come to me ! K. J. iii. 4.
Eyes, look your last ! Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, you, The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death. R. J. v. 3.
Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity Is held from falling with so weak a wind, That it will quickly drop. H. IV. pt. II. iv. 4.
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with. M. iii. 4.
0, my love ! my wife ! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty : Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there. R. J. v. 3.
By medicine life may be prolong' d, yet death Will seize the doctor too. Cym. v. 5.
That we shall die, we know ; 'tis but the time, And drawing days out, that men stand upon. J. C. iii. 1.
Cowards die many times before their deaths ; Tke valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear ; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. J. C. ii. 2.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation. H. VI. pt.II. iii. 3.
Death remember'd, should be like a mirror, Who tells us, life's but a breath ; to trust it, error P. P. i. 1.
Oft have I seen a timely parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart ; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for. aidance 'gainst the enemy ; Which, with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 2.
The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. M. ii. 2.
Finish, good lady, the bright day is done, And we are for the dark. A.C. v. 2.
Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension , And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance feels a.
pang as great, As when a giant dies. M. M. iii. 1.
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. R. II. ii. 1.
O you mighty gods ! This world I do renounce ; and in your sights, Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should Burn itself out. K. L. iv. 6.
Her blood is settled and these joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated : Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. R. J. iv. 5.
To die, is to be banish'd from myself. T. G. iii. 1.
0, death's a great disguiser. M. M. iv. 2 .
We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. K. J. iv. 2.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot : This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world ; or to be worse than worst , Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death. M. M. iii. 1.
Where art thou, death ? Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen Worth many babes and beggars. A.C. v. 2.
Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die ? Famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, The world is not thy friend nor the world's law. R. J. v. 1.
Receive what cheer you may ; The night is long that never finds a day. M. iv. 3.
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence. H. VI. pt. I. ii. 5.
I am resolv'd for death or dignity. H. VI. pt. II. v. 1.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, When death's approach is seen so terrible ! H. VI. pt. II. iii. 3.
The worst is, — death, and death will have his day. R. II. iii. 2.
He has walk'd the way of nature. H.IV. pt. II. v. 2.
Pr'ythee, have done, And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration, what Is now due debt. To the grave. Cym. iv. 2.
— of Buckingham, the Duke of. All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, And by that name must die ; yet, heaven bear witness, And if I have a conscience let it sink me, Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful ! You few that lov'd me, And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends,
and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go with me like good angels, to my end ; And as the long divorce of steel falls
on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name. H.VIII. ii.1.
Falstaff. 'A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child ; 'a parted just between twelve and one ; — e'en at the turning of the tide : for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers, ends, I knew there was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, Sir John, quoth I : what, man ! be of good cheer. So 'a cried out, God ! — three or four times : now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet.. H.V.ii. 3.
Gloucester, Humphrey, Duke of. But, see, his face is black and full of blood ; His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man ; His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking ; His well-proportion'd beard made rough
and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempests lodg'd. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 2.
King Henry IV. By his gates of breath, There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. — My gracious lord ! my father ! This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep, That from this golden rigol hath
divorc'd So many English kings. H. IV. pt. II. iv. 4.
King Henry VI. I'll hear no more. — Die, prophet, in thy speech ; For this among the rest was I ordain'd. — What, will the aspiring
blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have mounted See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 0, may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfall of our house ! If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down, to hell ; and say, — I sent thee thither. H. VI. pt. III. v. 6.
King John. Aye, marry, now my soul hath elbow room ; It would not out at windows nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, That all my bowels crumble up to dust : I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen, Upon a parchment ; and against this fire Do I shrink up. Prince Henry. — How fares your Majesty ? King John. — Poison'd, — ill fare ; — dead, forsook, cast off: And none of you will bid the winter come, And thrust his icy fingers in my maw ; Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north To make his break winds kiss my parched lips, And comfort me with cold : I do not ask you much I beg cold comfort. [Enter Falconbridge. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye : The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ; And all the shrouds wherewith my
life should sail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair : My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be
utter' d ; And then all this thou see'st is but a clod, And module of confounded royalty. K. J. v. 7.
Julius Caesar. El tu Brute ?— Then fall, Csesar. J. C. iii. 1.
How many ages hence, Shall this our lofty scene be acted over, In states unborn and accents yet unknown ! J C. iii. 1.
King Richard II. How now ? what means death in this rude assault ? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. Go thou and fill another room in hell. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand Hath, with the king's blood, stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high ; Whilst my gross-flesh sinks downward here to lie. R.II. v. 5.
Warwick, Earl of. Ah, who is nigh ? come to me, friend or foe. And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick ? Why ask I that ? my
mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, That I must yield my body to the earth, And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept : Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes
that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world : The wrinkles in my brow's now fill'd with blood, Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; For who liv'd king but I could dig his grave. Lo, now my glory, smear'd in dust and blood ! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me ; and, of all my lands, Is nothing left
me but my body's length I Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust ? And, live we how we can, yet, die we must.
H. VI. pt. III. v. 2.
Wolsey, Cardinal. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbot, With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ; To whom he gave these words, — 0, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay
his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity I So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness Pursued him still ; and, three days after this, About the hour of eight (which he himself Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, — and slept in peace.
H.VIII.iv.2.
of the Illustrious, by vile hands. Great men oft die by vile bezonians : A Roman sworder and banditti slave, Murder'd sweet Tully ;
Brutus' bastard hand Stabb'd Julius Csesar ; savage islanders Pompey the great : and Suffolk dies by pirates. H. VI. pt. II. iv. 1. Contempt op. There spake my brother ; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice ! Yes, thou must die Thou art too noble to
conserve a life In base appliances. M. M. iii. 1.
Levels Distinctions. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax' When neither are alive. Cym. iv. 2.
Abides with the Luxurious. Being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war. Cym. v. 3.
Relieves and prevents Miseries. Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change. A. C. v. 2.
Duncan is in his grave ; After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ; Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison. Malice domestic,
foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further. M. iii. 2.
Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time, for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality.
M. ii. 3.
Give me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well ? Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; For herein Fortune shows herself more kind
Than is her custom : it is still her use, To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow, An age of poverty ; from which ling'ring penance Of such a misery doth she cut me off. M. V. iv. 1.
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life, Cuts off as many years of fearing death . J.C. iii. 1.
Untimely. Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd ; No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head. H. i. 5.
DEATH BED Injunction. 0, but they say, the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony : Where words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain : For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. He, that no more may say, is listen'd more Than
they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze ; More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before ; The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last ; Writ in remembrance, more than things long past : Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. R. II. ii. 1.
DEBT. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves ; Creditors ! — devils. T. A. iii. 4.
DEBTS. Desperate. These debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em. T. A. iii. 4.
DECAY. My way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf. M. v. 3.
DECEIT. You are abus'd, and, by some putter on That will be damn'd for't ; — would I knew the villain W.T.ii. 1.
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast. R. III. iii. 4.
DECREPITUDE. You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age ; wretched in both. K. L. ii. 4.
I am old now, And these same crosses spoil me. K. L.v. 3.
Pray do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward ; and to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
K. L.. iv. 7.
But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. A. W. i. 2.
DEFEATED. Thou art not vanquish'd. But cozen' d and beguil'd. K. L. v. 3.
DEFIANCE. Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. J. C. v. 1.
Marry, Thou, thou dost wrong me ; thou dissembler, thou : — Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, I fear thee not. M. A. v. 1.
What man dare, I dare : Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tyger, Take any shape
but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble : Or, be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword ; If trembling I inhibit thee, protest me The baby of a girl. M. iii. 4.
And spur thee on, with full as many lies As may be holla' d in thy treacherous ear From sun to sun. R. II. iv. 1.
Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say ; By heaven, I think my sword as sharp as yours : I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence ; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. K. J. iv. 3.
Who sets me else ? by heaven, I'll throw at all : I have a thousand spirits in one breast, To answer twenty thousand such as you.
R. II. iv. 1.
Health to you, valiant Sir, During all the question of the gentle truce ; But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, As heart can think,
or courage execute. T. C. iv. 1.
Win me and wear me,-- -let him. answer me, — Come, follow me, boy ; come, boy, follow me : Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining
fence ; Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. M. A. v. 1.
What I did, I did in honour, Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ; And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestall'd remission. H. IV. pt. II. v. 2.
There is my gage, the manual seal of death, That marks thee out for hell : I say, thou liest, And will maintain what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart blood, though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword. R. II. iv 1.
If that thy valour stand on sympathies, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine : By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it, That thou wert cause of noble Glo'ster's death. If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest ;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. R. II. iv. 1.
Shall I be flouted thus with dunghill grooms ! H.VI. pt. I. i. 3.
Scorn, and defiance ; slight regard, contempt, And any thing that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at.
H. V. ii. 4.
Though I am not splenetive and rash, Yet have I in me something dangerous, Which let thy wisdom fear. H. v. 1.
I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face, Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.
H.VI. pt. III. v. 1.
I will fight with him upon this theme, Until my eye-lids will no longer wag. H. v. 1.
Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying ; pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy
at the price of one fair word. C. iii. 3.
You fools ! I and my fellows Are ministers of fate ; the elements Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds,
or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume. T. iii 3.
Thou injurious tribune ! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch' d as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say, Thou liest, unto thee, with voice as free As I do pray the gods. C. iii. 3.
Let them come ; They come like sacrifices in their trim, And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war, All hot and bleeding will we offer them ;
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit Up to the ears in blood. H. IV. pt. I. iv. 1.
I do defy him, and I spit at him ; Call him a slanderous coward, and'a villain. R. II. i. 1.
Gentle heaven, Cut off all intermission ; front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too ! M. iv. 3.
Let him do his spite : My services, which I have done the signiory Shall out-tongue his complaints. 0. i. 2.
DEFORMITY. Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature
with a bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ; To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body ; To shape my legs of an unequal size ; To disproportion me in every part ; Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, That
carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd ? 0, monstrous fault to harbour such a thought !
H. VI. pt. III. iii. 2.
But I, — that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking glass , I that am rudely stampt, and want love's majesty, To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable,
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them : — Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless
to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity. R. III. i. 1.
But, 0, how vile an idol proves this god ! Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature there's no blemish but the mind ; None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind : Virtue is beauty ; but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks, o'er-flourish'd by the devil.
T. N. iii. 4.
DEGENERACY. But, woe the while ! our fathers' minds are dead, And we are govern'd by our mothers' spirits ; Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. J. C. i. 3.
0, that a mighty man of such descent, Of such possessions, and so high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit !
T. S. Ind. 2.
What a falling off was there ! H. i. 5.
But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic ; And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands Against a falling fabric. C. iii. 1.
For in the fatness of these pursy times, Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg. H. iii. 4.
'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed, by order of law, a furred gown to keep him warm ; and furred with fox and lambskins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
M.M. iii. 2.
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days, Or fill up chronicles in time to come, That men of your nobility and power, Did 'gage them
both in an unjust behalf, — As both of you, God pardon it ! have done ? H. IV. pt. I. i. 3.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch; Since every Jack became a gentleman, There's many a gentle person made a Jack. R. III. i. 3.
DEGRADATION. Now I must To the young man send humble treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts of lowness. A.C. iii. 9.
DEGREES. So man and man should be ; But clay and clay differs in dignity "Whose dust is both alike. Cym. iv. 2.
DELAY (See also Irresolution, Opportunity). Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger ; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Ev'n then when we sit idly in the sun. T. C. iii. 3.
Sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. R. J. i. 4.
Come, — I have learn'd that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary.
R.III.iv. 3.
Let's be revenged on him : let's appoint him a meeting ; give him a show of comfort in his suit ; and lead him on with a fine-baited delay.
M. W. ii. 1.
0, my good lord, that comfort comes too late ; 'Tis like a pardon after execution ; That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me ; But now I'm past all comfort here, but prayers. H. VIII. iv. 2.
DELICACY of Idleness The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. H.v.1.
DELIGHTS. All delights are vain ; but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain. L.L.i.1.
These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ; like fire and powder, Which as they kiss, consume ; the sweetest
honey Is loathsome in its own dehciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore, love moderately ; long love doth so ; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow . R.J. ii. 6.
DELIRIUM OF THE Dying. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes, In their continuance will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them insensible ; and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies ; Which in their throng and press to that last hold, . Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should
sing. I am the cygnet to this pale-fac'd swan, Who chaunts a doleful hymn to his own death ; And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest. K.J. v. 7.
DELUSION (See also Illusion). 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes : our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Cym. iv. 2.
Oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths ; Win us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence. M. i. 3.
And be these juggling fiends no more believ d, That palter with us in a double sense ; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And
break it to our hope. M. v. 7.
Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that, when the image of it leaves him, he must run mad. T.N. ii. 5.
Thus may poor fools believe false teachers. Cym. iii. 4.
This is the very coinage of your brain This bodiless creation extacy Is very cunning in. H. iii. 4. .
Alas, how is't with you ? That you do bend your eyes on vacancy, And with the incorporal air do hold discourse ? H. iii. 4.
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ; Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. H. iii. 4.
Indeed, it is a strange disposed time : But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. J.C. i. 3.
DENIAL of Justice (See also Judgment, Justice). And is this all ? Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience ; and, with ripen' d time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapp'd up In countenance ! M. M. v. 1.
DEPRAVITY, Youthful. You're a fair viol, and your sense the strings ; Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to hearken ; But, being play'd upon before your time, Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. P.P. i. 1.
DEPRIVATION of things discloses their Value. What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again. A. C. i. 2.
DEPUTY. A substitute shines brightly as a king, Until a king be by ; and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. M. V. v. 1.
In our remove, be thou at full ourself ; Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart. M. M. i. 1.
DERANGEMENT, Mental (See also Despondency, Madness). A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ; Past speaking of in a king.
K. L. iv. 6.
DESCRIPTION. I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. P. P. iv. 3.
0, he hath drawn my picture in his letter ! L. L. v. 2.
DESDEMONA. A maid That paragons description, and wild fame ; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in the essential vesture of creation, Does bear all excellency. 0. ii. 1.
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, The gutter'd rocks, and congregated sands, — Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel, — As having sense of beauty, do omit Their mortal natures, letting go safely by The divine Desdemona. 0. ii. 1.
DESERT. Use every man according to his desert, and who shall escape whipping? use them after your own honour and dignity : the
less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. H. ii. 2.
0, your desert speaks loud ; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time, And razure of oblivion. M. M. v. 1.
But let desert in pure election shine. Tit. And. i. 1.
DESERTION. Him did you leave, Second to none, unseconded by you. H. IV. pt. II. ii. 2.
DESIGNATION. We call a nettle but a nettle ; and The faults of fools but folly. C. ii. 1.
DESIRE. The cloyed will (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, That tub both fill'd and running) ravening first The lamb, longs after for
the garbage. Cym. i. 7.
Happy ! but most miserable Is the desire that's glorious. Blessed be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills Which seasons comfort. Cym. 1. 7.
DESOLATION. I, an old turtle, .. Will wing me to some wither'd bough ; and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. W.T. v. 3.
Then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit ; but in one night, A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to wither. Cym. iii. 3.
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep for me, Almost no grave allow'd me ; — like the lily, That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, I'll hang my head and perish. H. VIII. iii. 1.
Alack, and what shall good old York there see, But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ? And what cheer there for welcome but my groans ? Therefore commend me, let him not come there, To seek out sorrow that dwells every where : Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die ; The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. R. II. i. 2.
DESPAIR. 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. K. J. iii. 4.
I will despair, and be at enmity With cozening hope ; he is a flatterer, A parasite, a keeper back of death, Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, Which false hope lingers in extremity. R. II. ii. 2.
Now let not Nature's hand Keep the wild flood confin'd ! Let order die ! And let this world no longer be a stage, To feed contention in a lingering act ; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene
may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead. H. IV. pt. II. i. 1.
O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me ; That life, a very rebel to my will, May hang
no longer on me ; throw my heart Against the flint and hardness of my fault ; Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder. And
finish all foul thoughts. A. C. iv. 9.
I pull in resolution ; and begin To doubt the equivocation of th fiend, That lies like truth. M. v. 5.
0, I am fortune's fool ! R J. iii. 1.
I shall despair. — There is no creatine loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me ; — Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself. R.III. v. 3.
For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea ; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting
ever when some envious surge Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him. Tit. And. iii. 1.
They have tied me to the stake, I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. M. v. 7.
Take the hint Which my despair proclaims ; let that be left Which leaves itself. A.C. iii. 9.
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun, And wish the estate of the world were now undone. M. v. 5.
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair. C. iii. 3.
My very hairs do mutiny ; for the white Reprove the brown for rashness ; and they them For fear and doting. A.C. iii. 9.
DESPATCH. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly. M. i. 7.
Come, to the forge with it then; shape it; I would not have things cool. M. W. iv. 2.
It makes us, or it mars us ; think on that, And fix most firm thy resolution. 0. v. 1.
Briefness, and fortune, work. K. L. ii. 1.
We must do something, and i' the heat. K. L. i. 1.
DESPERATION. Some say he's mad ; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury ; but for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper' d cause Within the belt of rule. M. v. 2.
Fortune knows, We scorn her most when most she offers blows. A.C. iii. 9.
Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight ! Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur ! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! O Desdemona ! O. v. 2.
Our enemies have beat us to the pit : It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us . J.C. v. 5.
Yet I will try the last : Before my body I throw my warlike shield ; lay on, Macduff; And damn'd be he that first cries " Hold ! Enough I"
M. v. 7.
Ring the alarum bell : Blow wind, come wrack ! At least we'll die with harness on our back. M. v. 5.
The time and my intents are savage wild ; More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea. R. J. v. 3.
Now could I drink hot blood, And do such business as the bitter day Would quake to look on. H. iii. 2.
No, I defy, all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress, Death, death. K. J. iii. 4.
O all you host of heaven ! earth ! — what else ? And shall I couple hell ? — fie ! — Hold, hold, my heart ; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. H. i. 5.
Ah, women, women ! come ; we have no friend But resolution and the briefest end. A. C. iv. 13.
DESPONDENCY (See also Derangement, Madness). I am not mad ; I would to heaven I were ! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: 0, if I could, what grief should I forget ! K. J. iii. 4.
Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal ; For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver' d of these woes, And teaches me to kill or hang myself. K. J. iii. 4.
I am sick of this false world ; and will love nought But. even the mere necessities upon it. Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave ; Lie, where the light foam of the sea may beat Thy grave-stone daily. T. A. iv. 3.
How stiff is my vile sense, That I stand up and have ingenious feeling Of my huge sorrows ! better I were distract ; So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs ; And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose The knowledge of themselves. K L. iv. 6.
0, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew ! Or, that the everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst
self-slaughter ! God ! God ! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on't ! fie on't ! 'tis an
unweeded garden, That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely. H. i. 2.
Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it No longer for my flatterer. T. iii. 3.
I have not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have. R. III. v. 3.
Nothing I'll bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town ! Timon will to the woods ; where he shall find The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. T. A. iv. 1.
What say you now ? what comfort have we now ? By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly, That bids me be of comfort any more.
R. II. iii. 2.
DESTINY. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. R. III. iv. 4.
The lottery of my destiny Bars me the right of voluntary choosing. M.V. ii. 1.
The antient saying is no heresy : — Hanging and wiving go by destiny. M. V. ii. 9.
'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death. 0. iii. 3.
DESTITUTION. Who gives any thing to poor Tom ? K. L. iii. 4.
DETERIORATION. When nobles are their tailors' tutors. K. L. iii. 2.
The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wip'd it out. 0. v. 3.
DETERMINATION (See also Resolution). I have given suck ; and know How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me : I would, while
it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as You have done
to this. M. i. 7.
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, And bid me hold my peace. H. i. 2.
Cannot, is false ; and that I dare not, falser ; I will not come to-day : tell them so, Decius. J.C. ii. 2.
Shall I stay here to do't ; no, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house, And angels offic'd all : I will be gone. A. W. iii. 2.
It was my will and grant ; And for this once, my will shall stand for law. H. VI. pt. III. iv. 1.
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. R. II. ii. 1.
My resolution, and my hands I'll trust ; None about Caesar. A. C. iv. 13.
I am fire and air ; my other elements I give to baser life. A. C. v. 2.
DETRACTION. Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you.
T. N. ii 5.
Happy are they that hear their detractions, and put them to mending. M. A. ii. 3.
DEVICE. What a slave art thou to hack thy sword as thou hast done ; and then say, it was in fight ! H. IV. pt. I. ii. 4.
DEVIL. Heaven prosper our sport ! No one means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. M. W. v. 1.
A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick ; on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all, all, quite lost ; And as, with age,
his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers. T. iv. 1.
DEVOTION. My heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord : I saw Othello's visage in his mind ; And to his honour and his
valiant parts, Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. O. i. 3 .
My best attires : — I am again for Cydnus, To meet Marc Antony. A.C. v. 2.
Yours in the ranks of death. K. L. iv. 2.
A true devoted pilgrim is not weary To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps. T. G. ii.7.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it. L. L. v. 2.
From the four corners of the earth they come, To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. M. V. ii. 7.
Pious.
With modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneel'd, and saint-like Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. H.VIII. iv. 1.
DEW. And that same dew which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flow'ret's eyes, Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. M. N. iv. 1.
I must go seek some dew-drops here, And hang a pearl on every cowslip's ear. M. N. ii. 1.
As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers. Tit. And. ii. 4.
DIFFIDENCE. A tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke, That it intends to do. K. L. i. 1.
DIGNITY. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. — Pistol, I will double charge thee with dignities. H.IV. pt. II. v. 3.
Nothing but death, Shall e'er divorce my dignities. H. VIII. iii. 1.
DIGRESSION. Shifted out of thy tale, into telling me of the fashion. M. A. iii. 3.
DILIGENCE. He'll watch the horologe a double set. O. ii. 3.
DINNER. He had not din'd : The veins unfill'd, the blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive ;
but when we have stuff d These pipes and these conveyances of our blood. With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts ; therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him. C. v. 1.
DIRGE. I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with thee ; For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.
Cym. iv. 2.
DISASTERS. Checks and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ; As knots, by the confl'ux of meeting sap, Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain Tortive and errant from his course and growth. T. C. i. 3.
Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ; And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought else, But the protractive trials of great Jove. T.C. i. 3.
DISCLOSURE. You shall see, anon ; 'tis a knavish piece of work. H. iii. 2.
DISCONTENT. What's more miserable than discontent ? H. VI. pt. II. iii. 1.
Happiness courts thee in her best array ; But like a misbehav'd and sullen wench, Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love : Take
heed, take heed, for such die miserable. R. J. iii. 3.
With what a majesty he bears himself; How insolent of late he is become, How proud, peremptory, and unlike himself!
H. VI. pt. II.iii.1.
Popular. And the pretence for this Is nam'd, your wars in France : this makes bold mouths ; Tongues spit their duties out, and cold
hearts freeze Allegiance in them ; their curses now, Live where their prayers did ; and it's come to pass, That tractable obedience is a slave To each incensed will. H.VIII. i. 2.
DISCRETION. For 'tis not good that children should know any wickedness : old folks, you know, have discretion, as they say, and
know the world. M. W. ii. 2.
DISGUISE. Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. T. N. ii. 2.
DISINTERESTEDNESS. 0, good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service
sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion ; And having that, do choke their service up, Even with the having. A. Y. ii. 3.
DISLIKE. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth, And bowl'd to death with turnips. M. W. iii. 4.
DISMAY (See also Fear, Terror). Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such
a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burn'd. But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue. H.IV. pt. II. i. 1.
His death (whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,) Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best temper'd courage in his troops ; For from his metal was his party steel'd ; Which once in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves,
like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself, Upon enforcement, flies with greater speed ; So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear. That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim, Than did our soldiers,
aiming at their safety, Fly from the field. H. IV. pt. II. i. 1.
DISMISSAL. Cassio, I love thee ; But never more be officer of mine. 0. ii. 3.
How ! what does his cashier'd worship mutter ? T. A. iii. 4.
Silent. Dismiss'd me Thus, with his speechless hand. C. v. 1.
DISORDER. But they did no more adhere and keep place together, than the hundredth psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves.
M. W. ii.1.
For night owls shriek, where mounting larks should sing. R. II. iii. 3.
DISPERSION. Our army is dispers'd already ; Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries towards his home and sporting place. H. IV. pt. II. iv. 2.
DISPLEASURE, Rash. Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave.
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends, and after, weep their dust : Our own love waking cries to see what's done, While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. A. W. v. 3.
DISPROPORTION. 0, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil. 0. v. 2.
DISQUIET. Look where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever med'cine thee
to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday . 0. iii. 3.
Indeed, indeed, Sirs, but this troubles me. H. i. 2.
DISSIMULATION (See Hypocrisy, Quoting Scripture). We are oft to blame in this ; — 'Tis too much prov'd, — that with devotion's visage, And pious action, we do sugar o'er The devil himself. H. iii. 1.
Divinity of hell ! When devils will their blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows. 0. ii. 3.
If I do not put on a sober habit, Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; Nay
more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes Thus — with hat, and sigh, and say, amen ; Use all the observance of civility, Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more . M. V. ii. 2.
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile ; And cry content to that which grieves my heart ; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. H. VI. pt. III. iii. 2.
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains, Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love, Which is indeed but
sign. 0. i. 1.
Where we are There's daggers in men's smiles ; the near in blood, The nearer bloody. M. ii. 3.
In following him I follow but myself ; Heaven is my judge, not I for love or duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end : For when my
outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, 'tis not long after, But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve, For daws to peck at. I am not what I am. O. i. 1.
To beguile the time, Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the
serpent under it. M. i. 5.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show, False face must hide what the false heart doth know. M. i. 7.
Good now, play one scene, Of excellent dissembling ; and let it look Like perfect honour. A.C. i. 3.
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words. H. VI. pt. II. iii. 2.
And with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts. W. T. i. 2.
You vow, and swear, and super-praise my parts, When I am sure you hate me in your hearts. M. N. iii. 2.
As I, perchance, hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on. H. i. 5.
DISTINCTION. Art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular ? H. V. iv. 1.
Unbecoming. It lies as sightly on the back of him, As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass. K. J. ii. 1.
DISTRACTION. Contending with the fretful elements ; Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease : tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury and make nothing of: Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-an-fro-conflicting wind and rain. K.L. iii. 1.
DISTRESS. The thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility. A. Y. ii. 7.
DISTURBERS. Who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their functions freely. C. v. 6.
DISUNION. When that the general is not like the hive, To whom the foragers shall all repair, What honey is expected ? T.C.i.3.
How, in one house, Should many people, under two commands, Hold amity ? 'Tis hard, almost impossible. K. L. ii. 4.
DOOM. Away ! By Jupiter, This shall not be revok'd. K.L. i. 1 .
DOTARD. The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out ; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. A. W. iii. 2.
DOVER Cliffs. How fearful And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes below ! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce
so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade ! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head :
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice ; and yon tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock ; her cock, a buoy,
Almost too small for sight: The murm'ring surge, That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high : I'll look no
more ; Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong. K. L. iv. 6.
DRAMAS. The best of this kind are but shadows ; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. M. N. v. 1.
DREAMS. I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; Which is as thin of substance as the air ; And more inconstant than the wind, which wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew -dropping south. R. J. i. 4.
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream ; — past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. M. N. iv. 1.
'Tis still a dream ; or else such stuff as madmen Tongue and brain out ; either both, or nothing ; Or senseless speaking, or a speaking
such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy. Cym. v. 4.
By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, Armed in proof, led on by shallow Richmond. R. III. v. 3.
Poor wretches, that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done, Awake, and find nothing. Cym. v. 4.
This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep Did mock sad fools withal. P. P. v. 1.
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; Cry, Courage ! — to the field ! And thou hast talk'd Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents, Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, And all the currents of a heady fight.
H. IV. pt. l. ii. 3.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,. And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, Like bubbles on a late disturbed stream : And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, ' Such as we see when men restrain their breath On some great sudden haste. H. IV. pt. I. ii. 3.
There is some ill a-brewing toward my rest, For I did dream of money bags to-night. M. V. ii. 5.
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls. R. III. v. 3.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs. C. iii. 8.
DRESS (See also Advice to a Young Man). For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ; And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, So honour peereth in the meanest habit. T. S. iv. 3.
What, is the jay more precious than the lark, Because his feathers are more beautiful ? Or is the adder better than the eel, Because his painted skin contents the eye ? T. S. iv. 3.
And now, my honey love, We will return unto thy father's house ; And revel it as bravely as the best ; With silken coats, and caps, and
golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things : With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery, And amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his rustling treasure. T. S. iv. 3.
My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person all this while : Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, Myself to be a marvellous proper man. I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; And entertain a score or two of tailors, To study fashions to adorn my body. Since I am crept in favour with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost. R. III. i. 2.
The gown ? why, ay ; — Come, tailor, let us see't. O mercy, God ! what masking stuff is here ? What's this ? a sleeve ? 'tis like a
demi-cannon : What ! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart ? Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash, Like to a censer in a barber's shop : — Why, what, o' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this ? T. S. iv. 3.
Cloten. — Thou villain base, Know'st thou not me by my cloaths ? Guiderius. — No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather : he
made those cloaths, Which, as it seems, make thee. Cym. iv. 2.
I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean ; nor believe he can have every thing in him for keeping his apparel neatly.
A. W. iv. 3.
DROWNING. Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of water in my ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon. R. III. i. 4.
Often did I strive To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air : But smother'd it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. R. III. i. 4.
A pox of drowning thyself ! it is clean out of the way. 0. i. 3.
DRUMS. Strike up the drums : and let the tongue of war Plead for our interest. K. J. v. 2.
Do but stir An echo with the clamour of thy drum, And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ; Sound but another, and another shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, And mock the deep mouth'd thunder. K. J. v. 2.
He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. A.W. v. 3.
I'll no more drumming ; a plague of all drums. A.W.iv. 3.
DRUNKARD (See Wine). A howling monster : a drunken monster. T. iii. 2.
O that men should put an enemy into their mouths, to steal away their brains !— that we should, with joy revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts ! O.ii.3.
O monstrous beast ! — how like a swine he lies ! T. S. Ind. 1.
When he is best, he is little worse than a man ; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast. M.W. i. 2.
Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil. O. ii. 3.
Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman ; one draught above heat makes him a fool ; the second mads him ; and a third drowns him.
T. N. i. 4.
You see this fellow that is gone before ; — He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar And give direction : and do but see his vice ; 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as th' other. 0. ii. 3.
I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell me, I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all.
To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast. 0. ii. 3.
One drunkard loves another of the name. L. L. iv. 3.
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence As my young mistress' dog. 0. ii. 3.
I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. M. A. iii. 3.
And now, in madness, Being full of supper, and distempering draughts, Upon malicious bravery dost thou come, To start my quiet.
0. i. 1.
They were red hot with drinking ; So full of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground For kissing of their feet. T. iv. 1.
Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk ; — this is my antient ; — this is my right hand, and this my left hand : — I am not drunk : — I can stand well enough ; and speak well enough : Why, very well then ; you must not think then that I am drunk. 0. ii. 3.
Pious. I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick : if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. M. W. i. 1.
DUELLIST. Room for the incensed worthies. L. L.v. 2.
Thou art one of those fellows, that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says, God send me no need of thee! and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when indeed, there is no need. R.J. iii. 1.
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill, What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill. T.A. iii. 5.
Your words have took such pains, as if they labour'd To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling Upon the head of valour; which, indeed, Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were but newly born. T. A. iii. 5.
He is a devil in a private brawl : souls and bodies hath he divorced three ; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre; hob, nob, is his word; give't or take 't. T.N. iii. 4.
DUEL Prevented. Boys of art, I have deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong places : your hearts are mighty, and your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the islue M. W. iii. 1.
DULNESS. Cudgel your brains no more about it; for your dull ass will never mend his pace with beating. H. v. 1.
DUNS. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot Do what they would; are sorry
— you are honourable,- But yet they could have wish'd— they knew not— but Something hath been amiss— a noble nature May catch
a wrench— would all were well— 'tis pity— And so, intending other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions,
With certain half caps, and cold moving nods, They froze me into silence. T.A. ii. 2.
DUPE. Whose nature is so far from doing harms, That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy.
K.L. i. 2.