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Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet
Could rule them both, without ten women's wit.

Line 1007

For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.

Line 1019.

LUCRECE.
Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
The eyes of men without an orator. -Line 29.

Those that much covet are with gain so fond,
For what they have not, that which they possess
They scatter and unloose it from their bond,
And so, by hoping more, they have but less;
Or, gaining more, the profit of excess

Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain,
That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.

Line 134.

Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week ?
Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?

Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?

Line 212.

All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth. --Line 268.

True grief is fond and testy as a child.*— Line 1094.

'Tis double death to drown in ken of shore ;
He ten times pines that pines beholding food ;

Shakespeare has applied the same expression to love in “The Two Gentlemen of Verona," Act I,

Sc. 2.

To see the salve doth make the wound ache more ;
Great grief grieves most at that would do it good ;
Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood,

Who, being stopp'd, the bounding banks o’erflows;
Grief dallied with nor law nor limit knows.

Line 1114.

For men have marble, women waxen, minds,
And therefore are they form’d as marble will ;
The weak oppress’d, the impression of strange kinds
Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill :
Then call them not the authors of their ill,

No more than wax shall be accounted evil
Wherein is stamp'd the semblance of a devil.

Line 1240.

The old bees die, the young possess their hive.

Line 1769.

A LOVER'S COMPLAINT.
*O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
In the small orb of one particular tear !
But with the inundation of the eyes
What rocky heart to water will not wear?
What breast so cold that is not warmed here?
O cleft effect ! cold modesty, hot wrath,
Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath.

Line 288.

THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM. Crabbed age and youth cannot live together : Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care ; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.

Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short;

Youth is nimble, age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold ;

Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee;

O, my love, my love is young !
Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,

For methinks thou stay'st too long. -Line 157.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good ;
A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly ;
A flower that dies when first it ’gins to bud;
A brittle glass that 's broken presently :

A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,

Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,

So beauty blemish'd once's for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost.

Line 169.

SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC.

20.
Live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And all the craggy mountains yields.

21.

He that is thy friend indeed,

He will help thee in thy need :
It is usually supposed that this song was written by Marlowe.

If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.

SONNETS.

18. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.

25. The painful warrior, famoused for fight,

After a thousand victories once foil'd, Is from the books of honour razed quite,

And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd.

35. And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.

54. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye

As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly

When summer's breath their masked buds discloses.

III.

My nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.

116.

Love is not love, Which alters when it alteration finds

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Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error, and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

INDEX.

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