d; now lies he there,
And none so poor to do him reverence.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

If you have years, prepare to shed them now.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

See, what a rent the envious Casca made!

Act iii. Sc. 2.

This was the most unkindest cut of all.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Great Caesar fell.
O what a fall was there, my countrymen!

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Put a tongue
In every wound of Caesar, that should move
The stones of Borne to rise and mutiny.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats
For I am armed so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

A friend should bear a friend's infirmities,
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune:
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.

Act v. Sc. 5.

His life was gentle, and the elements
So mixed in him, that nature might stand up
And say to all the world, _This was a man_!

* * * * *

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

Act i. Sc. 1.

There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

For her own person,
It beggared all description.

Act ii. Sc. 2.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety.

* * * * *

CYMBELINE.

Act ii. Sc. 3.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Some griefs are med'cinable.

Act iii. Sc. 6.

Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.

* * * * *

KING LEAR.

Act i. Sc. 4.

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is,
To have a thankless child.

Act i. Sc. 4.

Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

Act ii. Sc. 4.

O, let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks.

Act iil. Sc. 2.

Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipped of justice.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

I am a man
More sinned against than sinning.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless sto