John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
Page 75
| William Shakespeare. (1564–1616) (continued) |
| 824 |
| Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. |
| Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5. |
| 825 |
| Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| 826 |
| Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| 827 |
| He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| 828 |
| Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| 829 |
| Sir To. Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clo. Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i’ the mouth too. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| 830 |
| My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3. |
| 831 |
| These most brisk and giddy-paced times. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4. |
| 832 |
| Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband’s heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women’s are. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4. |
| 833 |
| Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4. |
| 834 |
| The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. |
| Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4. |
| 835 |
| Duke. And what ’s her history? Vio. A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud, |