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7-iii. 2. 616
'Tis such fools as you, That make the world full of ill-favour'd children: 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; And out of you she sees herself more proper, Than any of her lineaments can show her.
10-iii. 5. 617
She is too disdainful;
618 Your face hath got five hundred pounds a-year; Yet sell your face for five-pence, and tis dear.
16-i. 1. 619
She creeps ;
30iii. 3. 620
I never yet saw man, How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, But she would spell him backward; if fair-faced, She'd swear, the gentleman should be her sister; If black, why nature, drawing of an antic, Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; If low, an agate very vilely cut: If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; If silent, why a block, moved with none. So turns she every man the wrong side out; And never gives to truth and virtue that, Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 6-iii. 1.
* A species of hawk.
621 I would, my horse had the speed of your tongue; and so good a continuer.
622 You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all the yarn she spun, in Ulysses' absence, did but fill Ithaca full of moths.
28-i. 3. 623
Constant you are ;
624 If they were but a week married, they would talk themselves mad.
625 I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. No: an he were, I would burn my study.
She cannot love, Nor take no shape nor project of affection, She is so self-endear'd.
6-iii. 1. 627
O thou public commoner!
37-iv. 2. 628 She is peevish, sullen, froward, Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ; Neither regarding that she is my child, Nor fearing me as if I were her father. 2-iii. 1.
629 She is too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise : only this
commendation I can afford her; that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome.
630 Let them anatomize her; see what breeds about her heart: Is there any cause in nature, that makes these hard hearts?
631 Lady, you have a merry heart. Yea, I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care.
bii. 1. 632
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant,
633 Her beauty and her brain go not together:* She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.
634 Would I (being bat a moonish youth) grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every passion something, and for no passion truly any thing (as boys and women are the most part cattle of this colour); would now like
im, now loath him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him.
635 Come, an it were not for thy humours, there is not a better wench in England.
19-ii. 1. 636
Whose warp'd looks proclaim What store her heart is made of.
* Her beauty and sense are not equal.
† Anciently almost every sign had a motto, or some attempt at witticism, underneath it.
637 She puts her tongue a little in her heart, And chides with thinking.
37-ii. 1. 638
Who might be your mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once, Over the wretched ? What though you have more
beauty, (As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed,) Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ?
639 O, how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance !
20-ii. 2. 640 You are pictures out of doors, Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your kitchens, Saints in your injuries, devils being offended.
641 What, my dear lady Disdain ! are you yet living?
642 Thou wilt never get thee a husband, if thou be 80 shrewd with thy tongue.
643 She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the north star.
She would have made Hercules have turned spit; yea, and have cleft his club, to make the fire too.
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings, Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
645 God hath given you one face, and you make your. selves another : you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance.
646 I saw her hand ; she has a leathern hand, A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think, That her old gloves were on; but 'twas her hands; She has a huswife's hand.