He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Ibid.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet.

Stony limits cannot hold love out;

Ibid.

And what love can do, that dares love attempt.

Ibid.

At lovers' perjuries,

They say, Jove laughs.

Ibid.

O, for a falconer's voice,

To lure this tassel-gentle back again!

Ibid.

Good night! good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Ibid.

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.

Ibid.

Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an egg is full of

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burnt on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfum'd that

The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were

silver,

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water, which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description.*

Act II. Scene 2.

* Dryden, in "All for Love," Act 3, has a plagiaristic imitation of these exquisite lines.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale

Her infinite variety; other women

Cloy th' appetites they feed; but she makes hungry

Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,

Since riches point to misery and contempt ?

She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd ;*
She is a woman, therefore may be won;
She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd.

* See quotations from King Henry the Sixth, Part I.

What, man! more water glideth by the mill
Than wots the miller of; and easy it is

Of a cut loaf to steal a shive.

Act II. Scene 1.

PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.

One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir, *
That may succeed as his inheritor.

Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan,
The outward habit by the inward man.

Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,

Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green.

Venus and Adonis, Stanza 25

* When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions.

See quotations from Hamlet, Act iv., Scene 5

Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high.

Venus and Adonis, Stanza 143.

My nature is subdued to what it works in.