| 1 |
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 burnt.
| Act i. Sc. 1.
|
| 2 |
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remember'd tolling a departing friend.
| Ibid.
|
| 3 |
I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
| Sc. 2.
|
| 4 |
A rascally yea-forsooth knave.
| Ibid.
|
| 5 |
Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
| Ibid.
|
| 6 |
We that are in the vaward of our youth.
| Ibid.
|
| 7 |
For my voice, I have lost it with halloing and singing of anthems.
| Ibid.
|
| 8 |
It was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing to make it too common.
| Ibid.
|
| 9 |
I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.
| Ibid.
|
| 10 |
If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle.
| Ibid.
|
| 11 |
Who lined himself with hope,
Eating the air on promise of supply.
| Ibid.
|
| 12 |
When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model;
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection.
| Sc. 3.
|
| 13 |
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
| Ibid.
|
| 14 |
Past and to come seems best; things present worst.
| Ibid.
|
| 15 |
A poor lone woman.
| Act ii. Sc. 1.
|
| 16 |
I 'll tickle your catastrophe.
| Ibid.
|
| 17 |
He hath eaten me out of house and home.
| Ibid.
|
| 18 |
Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week.
| Ibid.
|
| 19 |
I do now remember the poor creature, small beer.
| Sc. 2.
|
| 20 |
Let the end try the man.
| Ibid.
|
| 21 |
Thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.
| Ibid.
|
| 22 |
He was indeed the glass
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
| Sc. 3.
|
| 23 |
Aggravate your choler.
| Sc. 4.
|
| 24 |
O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
| Act iii. Sc. 1.
|
| 25 |
With all appliances and means to boot.
| Ibid.
|
| 26 |
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
| Ibid.
|
| 27 |
Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?
| Sc. 2.
|
| 28 |
Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is, being, whereby a' may be thought to be accommodated,--which is an excellent thing.
| Ibid.
|
| 29 |
Most forcible Feeble.
| Ibid.
|
| 30 |
We have heard the chimes at midnight.
| Ibid.
|
| 31 |
A man can die but once.
| Ibid.
|
| 32 |
Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.
| Ibid.
|
| 33 |
We are ready to try our fortunes
To the last man.
| Act iv. Sc. 2.
|
| 34 |
I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, "I came, saw, and overcame."
| Sc. 3.
|
| 35 |
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity.
| Sc. 4.
|
| 36 |
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
| Sc. 5.
|
| 37 |
Commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways.
| Ibid.
|
| 38 |
A joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kick-shaws, tell William cook.
| Act v. Sc. 1.
|
| 39 |
His cares are now all ended.
| Sc. 2.
|
| 40 |
Falstaff. What wind blew you hither, Pistol?
Pistol. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good.
| Sc. 3.
|
| 41 |
A foutre for the world and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa and golden joys.
| Ibid.
|
| 42 |
Under which king, Bezonian? speak, or die!
| Ibid.
|