If it be true, that good wine needs no bush,* 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue.

Epilogue-spoken by Rosalind.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it.

Act 1.

Scene 1.

He must needs go, that the devil drives.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.

Act 1v.

Scene 3

* Good wine needs no bush. This is an old proverb, derived from the custom once in use amongst wine-sellers of hanging a bush of ivy at their doors.

v

Praising what is lost, Makes the remembrance dear.

Act v.

Scene 3:

COMEDY OF ERRORS.

Men, more divine, the masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world, and wild watry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females and their lords.

Scene I.

Act II.

He must have a long spoon that must eat with the

devil.

Act 1v.

Scene 3

MACBETH.

When shall we three meet again ?
In thunder, lightning, or in rain ?

Act 1.

Scene I.

The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them.

Act 1.

Scene 3

What, can the devil speak true ?

Ibid.

Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it.

Act 1.

Scene 4.

V.

Yet do I fear thy nature :
It is too full o'the milk of human kindness.

Act 1.

Scene 5.

If it were done, when 't is done, then 't were well
It were done quickly. If the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
With his surcease, success :—that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here, V
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,-
We'd jump the life to come. But, in these cases,
We still have judgment here ; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust :
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan,
Hath borne his faculties so meek-hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off ;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd

VA

Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other. *

Act 1.

Scene 7

I have bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.

Ibid.

I dare do all that may become a man :
Who dares do more is none.

Ibid.

Screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail.

Ibid.

V The labour we delight in, physics pain.

Act Il.

Scene 3:

We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it ;
She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice
Remains in danger of her former tooth.

* This celebrated soliloquy of Macbeth is given in its entirety, as it contains many quotations in frequent use. Macbeth is interrupted in it by the entrance of Lady Macbeth, and stops abruptly, as in the text above, to inquire, “ How now, what news ?”

But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds

suffer,
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams,
That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstacy.

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.

Act 111.

Scene 2.

But now, I'm cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in
To
saucy

doubts and fears.

Act 111.

Scene 4.

Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both !

Ibid.

The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murthers on their crowns, And push us from our stools. Ilid.

LADY MACBETH. You have displac'd the mirth,

broke the good meeting, With most admir'd disorder. MACBETH.

Can such things be,