| 1 |
I have had my labour for my travail.
| Act i. Sc. 1.
|
| 2 |
Take but degree away, untune that string,
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets
In mere oppugnancy.
| Sc. 3.
|
| 3 |
The baby figure of the giant mass
Of things to come.
| Ibid.
|
| 4 |
Modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
To the bottom of the worst.
| Act ii. Sc. 2.
|
| 5 |
The common curse of mankind,--folly and ignorance.
| Sc. 3.
|
| 6 |
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.
| Act iii. Sc. 2.
|
| 7 |
Welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing.
| Sc. 3.
|
| 8 |
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
| Ibid.
|
| 9 |
And give to dust that is a little gilt
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
| Ibid.
|
| 10 |
And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.
| Ibid.
|
| 11 |
His heart and hand both open and both free;
For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty.
| Act iv. Sc. 5.
|
| 12 |
The end crowns all,
And that old common arbitrator, Time,
Will one day end it.
| Ibid.
|