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All fancy-fick fhe is, and pale of cheer

With fighs of love.

Midsummer Night's Dream, A, 3, S. 2,

You thief of love! what, have you come by night, And ftol'n my love's heart from him?

Midfummer Night's Dream, Ą. 3, S. 2.

Lovers and madmen have fuch feething brains,
Such shaping fantafies that apprehend
More than cool reafon ever comprehends.

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 5, S. 1,

Before the time I did Lyfander see,
Seem'd Athens as a paradife to me:
O then, what graces in my love do dwell,
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell!

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1.
As waggish boys themselves in game forfwear,
So the boy Love is perjur'd every where.

Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1. Ah me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history,

The courfe of true love never did run smooth.
Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1.

Things bafe and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.
Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 1, S. 1.

Your wrongs do fet a fcandal on my fex:
We cannot fight for love, as men may do;
We should be woo'd, and were not made to woo.
Midfummer Night's Dream, A. 2, S. 2.

O fpirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the fea, nought enters there,
But falls into abatement and low price,

Even in a minute! Twelfth Night, A. 1, S. 1.

She

She never told her love,

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,

Feed on her damask cheek.

Twelfth Night, A. 2, S. 4.

O, what a deal of fcorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of his lip!
A murd'rous guilt fhews not itself more foon
Than love that would seem hid.

Twelfth Night, A. 3, S. 1.

Such as I am, all true lovers are;

Unftaid and fkittifh in all motions elfe,

Save, in the conftant image of the creature
That is belov'd.

Twelfth Night, A. 2, S. 4.
I cannot love him:

Yet I fuppofe him virtuous, know him noble,
Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth;
And in dimenfion, and the fhape of nature,
A gracious perfon.

Twelfth Night, A. 1, S. 5.

Write loyal cantons of contemned love,
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling goffip of the air
Cry out Olivia!

Twelfth Night, A. 1, S. 5.
If lufty Love should go in queft of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous Love should go in fearch of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If Love ambitious fought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch ?
King John, A. 2, S. 2.
He counfels a divorce: a lofs of her,
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never loft her luftre;
Of her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with; even of her,
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls,
Will blefs the king.
Henry VIII. A. 2, S. 2.

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Farewell,

Thou pure impiety, and impious purity!
For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love.

Much ado about nothing, A. 4, S. 1.

I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to a fifter, fhew'd
Bashful fincerity and comely love.

*

Much ado about nothing, A. 4, S. 1.

I will not be fworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyfter of me, he shall never make me fuch a fool. Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.

I do much wonder, that one man, feeing how much another man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laugh'd at fuch shallow follies in others, become the argument of his own fcorn, by falling in love.

Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.

Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am cenfured: they fay, I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they fay too, that he will rather die than give any fign of affection. I did never think to marry :-I must not feem proud. Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.

Loving goes by haps:

Some Cupid kills with arrows, fome with traps.

Much ado about nothing, A. 3, S. 1.

She cannot love,

Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is fo felf-endeared.

3,

Much ado about nothing, A. S. I. They fay, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth I can bear them witnefs; and virtuous; 'tis fo, I cannot reprove it and wife-but for loving me:-By my troth, it is no addition to her wit;-nor no great

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argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.

If I do not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picMuch ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 3.

ture.

If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse, or thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form;

Or that I do not yet, and ever did,

And ever will-though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement,-love him dearly,
Comfort forfwear me !

I would do much

Othello, A. 4, S. 2.

Othello, A. 4, S. 1.

To atone them, for the love I bear to Caffio.

I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man fwear he loves me.

Much ado about nothing, A. 1, S. 1.

How sweetly do you minister to love,
That know love's grief by his complexion!

1. Much ado about nothing, A. 1, S. 1. Prove, that ever I lose more blood with love, than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-houfe for the fign of blind Cupid. Much ado about nothing, A. 1, S. 1. Friendship is constant in all other things,

Save in the office and affairs of love:

Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues;

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atone them.] Make them one; reconcile them.

"Atone them" feems harfh. Perhaps we may read,

"Attune them,"

JOHNSON.

. e. Create an harmony between them-reconcile them. A. B.

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Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And truft no agent.

Much ado about nothing, A. 2, S. 1.

Were 't to renounce his baptifm,

All feals and fymbols of redeemed fin,—

His foul is fo enfetter'd to her love,

That the may make, unmake, do what fhe lift,
Even as her appetite fhall play the god

With his weak function.

Othello, A. 2, S. 3.

What! keep a week away? feven days and nights! Eight score eight hours? and lovers abfent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times,

O weary reckoning!

Othello, A. 3, S. 4.

You know me well: and herein spend but time,
To wind about my love with circumstance :
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making question of my uttermoft,

Than if you had made waste of all I have.

Merchant of Venice, A. 1, S. 1.

Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the ificles,
And let us make incifion for your love,
To prove whofe blood is reddeft, his, or mine.

Merchant of Venice, A. 2, S. 1.

I tell thee, lady, this afpect of mine

Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear,
The beft regarded virgins of our clime

Have lov'd it too: I would not change this hue,
Except to fteal your thoughts, my gentle queen.

Merchant of Venice, A. 2, S. 1.

What! keep a week away ?---Seven days and nights!]

Hui! univorfum triduum!

TERENCE.

A. B.

There

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