There 's not the smallest orb which thou hehold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still qniring to the young-eyed cherubims ;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

The Merchant of Venice. Act v. Sc. 1.

I am never merry when I hear sweet music. Ibid.

The man that hath no music in himself,

Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;

The motions of his spirit are dull as night

And his affections dark as Erebus :

Let no sueh man he trusted. lhid.

How far that little candle throws his beams !

So shines a good deed in a naughty world. lhid.

How many things by season seasoned are

To their right praise and true perfection ! lhid.

This night methinks is but the daylight siek. ibid.

These blessed candles of the night. Ibid.

Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.

As You Like It. Aet I Se. 2.

My pride fell with my fortunes. Ibid.

Cel. Not a word?

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Aet i. Sc. 3.

O, how full of briers is this working-day world 1 lhid.

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Ibid.

We 'll have a swashing and a martial outside,

As many other mannish cowards have. Ibid. Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;

And this our life exempt from public haunt

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones and good in every thing.

At You Like lt. Act ii. Se. 1.

The big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase. ihid.

"Poor deer," quoth he, "thou makest a testament

As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more

To that which had too much." Ibid.

Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens. Ibid.

And He that doth the ravens feed Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! Act ii. Se. 3.

For in my youth I never did apply

Hot and rebellious liquors in my hlood. feid.

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter,

Frosty, but kindly. lhid.

O good old man, how well in thee appears

The constant service of the antique world,

When service sweat for duty, not for meed!

Thou art not for the fashion of these times,

Where none will sweat but for promotion. ihid.

Travellers must be eontent. Aet ii. Se. 4.

Under the greenwood tree. Act ii. Se. e.

I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool. Act ii. Se. 7.

And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms,

In good set terms. As You Like It, Act ii. Sc. 7.

And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, “ It is ten o’clock:

Thus we may see,” quoth he, “how the world wags."

And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial.

Motley ’s the only wear.

If ladies be but young and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit
After a voyage, he hath strange places crammed
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms.

I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please.

The ‘why ’ is plain as way to parish church.

If ever you have looked on better days,
If ever been where bells have knolled to church,
If ever sat at any good man’s feast.

And wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered.

All the world 's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances ;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining sehool-hoy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal eut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances ;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
is seeond ehildishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.

As You Like It. Aet ii. Sc. 7.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude. lhid.

The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. Aet iii. Be. 2.

It goes mueh against my stomach. I last any philosophy in thee, shepherd? As You Like It. Act iii. Se. 2.

He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends. lhid.

With bag and baggage. Ibid.

O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping! lhid.

I do desire we may be better strangers. Ibid.

Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I 'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. Ibid.

Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellowfault came to match it. lhid.

Neither rhyme nor reason. ihid.

I would the gods had made thee poetical. Act iii. Se. 3.

Down on your knees,
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.

Aet iii. Sc. 5.

It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry eontemplation of my travels, in whieh my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. Act iv. So, 1.

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad. Ibid.

Or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola.

Ibid.