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Fire, that is closest kept, burns most of all.-Luc. I., 2.


Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.-VAL.

I., 1.

He that is so yoked by a fool, methinks should not be chronicled for wise.-Vał. I., 1.

He wants wit, that wants resolved will to learn his wit to exchange the bad for better.-PRO. II., 6.

Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, and manage it against despairing thoughts.-PRO. III., 1.


I have no other but a woman's reason; I think him so, because I think him so.-Luc. I., 2.


Love is like a child, that longs for every thing that he can come by.—DUKE, III., 1.


Maids, in modesty, say No, to that which they would have the profferer construe, Ay.-JUL. I., 2.

My love is thaw'd; which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was.-Pro, II., 4.

My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good news, so much of bad already hath possess'd them.-VAL. III., 1.

Make a virtue of necessity.-2 OUT. IV., 1.


O, how this spring of love resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day;
Which now shews all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away.-


.-PRO. I., 3.

Spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, the more it grows, and fawneth on her still.-PRO. IV., 2.


They love least, that let men know their love.— Luc. 1.,


The current, that with gentle murmur glides, thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; but, when his fair course is not hindered, he makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, giving a gentle kiss to every sedge he overtaketh in his pilgrimage; and so by many winding nooks he strays, with willing sport, to the wild ocean.-JUL. II., 7.

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.-VAL. III., 1.

Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.-PRO. III., 1.

To be slow in words, is a woman's only virtue.— LAUN. III., 1.

The private wound is deepest.-Val. V., 4.


Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee?— DUKE, III., 1.

Romeo and Juliet.


An hour before the worshipp'd sun peer'd forth the golden window of the east, a troubled mind drave me to walk abroad.-ВÊN. Act I., Scene 1.


there lies more peril in thine eye, than twenty of their swords.-Rom. II., 2.

Ah, what an unkind hour is guilty of this lamentable chance!-FRI. V., 3.


But he, his own affections' counsellor, is to himself -I will not say, how true-but to himself so secret and so close, so far from sounding and discovery, as is the bud bit with an envious worm.-MoN. I., 1.


Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; your tributary drops belong to woe, which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.-JUL. III., 2.

Banishment, is death mis-term'd; calling deathbanishment, thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe, and smil'st upon the stroke that murders me.-Roм. III., 3.


Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, we would as willingly give cure, as know.-MoN. I., 1.

Compare her face with some that I shall shew, and I will make thee think thy swan a crow.-BEN. I., 2.

Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, and where care lodges, sleep will never lie: but where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.-FRI. II., 3.

Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, brags of his substance, not of ornament.-JUL. II., 6.

Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow.-MER. III., 1.


Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest with more of thine.ROM. I., 1.

Go, counsellor; thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.-JUL. III., 5.


He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.-Rom. I., 1.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.-Rom.



Her eye discourses, I will answer it.-Rom. II., 2.


I, measuring his affections by my own,-that most are busied when they are most alone,-pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his, and gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.-BEN. I., 1.

I'll now his grievance, or be much denied.-BEN. I., 1.

I'll look to like, if looking liking move.-JUL. I., 3.

Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, too rude, too boist'rous; and it pricks like thorn.-Roм. I., 4.

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, who 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.-MER. I., 4.

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

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