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For 't is the sport, to have the engineer

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Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,

Looking before, and after, gave us not

That capability and godlike reason,
To fust in us unused.

Greatly to find quarrel in a straw, When honour's at the stake.

Activ. Sc. 4.

Activ. Sc. 4.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Act iv. Sc. 5.

be.

We know what we are, but know not what we may

Act iv. Sc. 5.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions!

There's such divinity doth hedge a king,

Activ. Sc. 5.

That treason can but peep to what it would.

Activ. Sc. 5.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; and

there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

Activ. Sc. 5.

A very riband in the cap of youth.

Activ. Sc. 7

Cudgel thy brains no more about it.

Act v. Sc. I.

One, that was a woman, sir, but rest her soul, she's dead.

Act v. Sc. 1.

How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card or equivocation will undo us.

Act v. Sc. I.

The age is grown so picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.

Act v. Sc. 1.

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent fancy.

Act v. Sc. I.

Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?

Act v. Sc. 1.

To what base uses we may return, Horatio!

Act v. Sc. 1.

Imperial Cæsar, dead, and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Act v. Sc. 1.

Sweets to the sweet.

For, though I am not splenetive and rash,

Act v. Sc. I.

Yet have I in me something dangerous. Act v. Sc. 1.

Let Hercules himself do what he may,

The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.

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The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we could carry a cannon by our sides.

Act v. Sc. 2.

There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.

I have shot my arrow o'er the house,
And hurt my brother.

Act v. Sc. 2.

Act v. Sc. 2.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

Act v. Sc. 2.

Report me and my cause aright.

Act v. Sc. 2.

OTHELLO.

That never set a squadron in the field,

Nor the division of a battle knows.

Acti. Sc. 1.

Whip me such honest knaves.

Acti. Sc. 1.

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at.

Act i. Sc. 1.

The wealthy curled darlings of our nation.

Most potent, grave, and reverend seigniors.

The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in

Acti. Sc. 2.

Acti. Sc. 3.

my speech. Acti. Sc. 3.

In the tented field.

Acti. Sc. 3.

I will a round, unvarnished tale deliver
Of my whole course of love.

Acti. Sc. 3.

The battles, sieges, fortunes,

That I have passed.

Acti. Sc. 3.

Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,

Of moving accidents, by flood and field,

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach.

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She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;

* The folios have, this to hear.

She swore, In faith, 't was strange, 't was passing

strange;

'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful :

She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished

That Heaven had made her such a man.

Upon this hint I spake :

Acti. Sc. 3.

She loved me for the dangers I had passed,

And I loved her that she did pity them.

Acti. Sc. 3.

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Iago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.
Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion !

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His breeches cost him but a crown;

He held them sixpence all too dear,

With that he called the tailor-lown.* Act ii. Sc. 3.

*Though these lines are from an old ballad given in Percy they are much altered by Shakspere, and it is his version we sing in the nursery.

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