was wont to hold me but while one would tell twenty.

1 MURD. How dost thou feel thyself now? 2 MURD. 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me.

1 MURD. deed's done.

Remember our reward, when the

2 MURD. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward.

1 MURD. Where's thy conscience now? 2 MURD. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 1 MURD. So, when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out.

2 MURD. 'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few, or none, will entertain it.

1 MURD. What, if it come to thee again?

2 MURD. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: 'Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that by chance I found; it beggars any man that keeps it it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man, that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.

1 MURD. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.

2 MURD. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would insinuate with thee, but to make thee sigh.

K. RICHARD III., a. 1, s. 4.

COMMON FATE OF MISFORTUNE.
NAY, sir, but hear me on:

All those which were his fellows but of late,
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance,
Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,

Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him
Drink the free air.

When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants, Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot.

TIMON OF ATHENS, A. 1, s. 1.

CONCEIT.

THINGS small as nothing, for request's sake only, He makes important: Possess'd he is with greatness;

And speaks not to himself, but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself: What should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death-tokens of it
Cry-No recovery.

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, A. 2, s. 3.

CONCEIT.

CONCEIT in weakest bodies strongest works.

HAMLET, A. 3, s. 4.

CONDITION OF ENGLAND IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

O ENGLAND!-model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart,

What might'st thou do, that honour would thee do,

Were all thy children kind and natural!

E. HENRY V., s. 2, Chorus.

CONDITIONS INFLUENCE IDEAS. P. HENRY. Trust me, I am exceeding weary. POINS. Is it come to that? I had thought, weariness durst not have attached one of so high blood.

P. HEN. 'Faith, it does me; though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me, to desire small beer?

POINS. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied, as to remember so weak a composition.

P. HEN. Belike then, my appetite was not princely got; for, by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. But, indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness.

K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 2, 8. 2.

CONFESSION OF THE BRAGGART. YET am I thankful: if my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this: Captain, I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft

As captain shall, simply the thing I am
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a
braggart

Let him fear this; for it will come to pass,
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live
Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!
There's place, and means, for every man alive.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, A. 4, s. 3.

CONFIDENCE.

Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st, Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, Led by their master to the flower'd fields.

TITUS ANDRONICUS, A. 5, s. 1.

CONSCIENCE HARDENS WITH THE PROGRESS OF EVIL.

O, FULL of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. There's comfort yet; they are assailable;

Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's

summons,

The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums, Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done

A. deed of dreadful note.

Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;

And, with thy bloody and invisible hand,

Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond Which keeps me pale!-Light thickens; and

the crow

Makes wing to the rooky wood:

Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still; Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by ill: So, pr'ythee, go with me.

MACBETH, A. 3, s. 2.

CONSCIENCE LAID OPEN.

I AM myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in: What should such fellows as I do, crawling between earth and heaven! We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us.

HAMLET, A. 3, s. 1.

CONSCIENCE.

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is,
Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss:
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself, in fearing to be spilt.

HAMLET, A. 4, s. 5.

CONSCIENCE WHEN SEARED.

O, 'TIS too true! how smart

A lash that speech doth give my conscience! The harlot's cheek, beautied with plast'ring art,