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All's Well That Ends Well
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All's Well That Ends Well
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  • Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me
  • Here, take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love and her desert; that canst not dream We, poising us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know It is in us to plant thine honour where We please to have it grow.
  • In his youth He had the wit which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, Ere they can hide their levity in honour So like a courtier: contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awak’d them; and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obey’d his hand: who were below him He us’d as creatures of another place;…
  • She is young, wise, fair; In these to nature she’s immediate heir; And these breed honour: that is honour’s scorn Which challenges itself as honour’s born, And is not like the sire: honours thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our fore-goers: the mere word’s a slave, Debauch’d on every tomb; on every grave A lying trophy; and as oft is dumb Where dust and damn’d oblivion is the tomb Of honour’d bones indeed.
  • This I must say,— But first, I beg my pardon,—the young lord Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady, Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife Whose beauty did astonish the survey Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn’d to serve Humbly call’d mistress.
  • …my liege: at first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold herald of my tongue: Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warp’d the line of every other favour; Scorned a fair colour, or express’d it stolen; Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous object: thence it came That she whom all men prais’d, and whom myself, Since I have lost, have lov’d, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it.

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  • Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
  • That coach scorns students who don’t have natural ability.

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