I'll duly teach you all these secrets, madam; You only need to let yourself be guided. Content my wishes, have no fear at all; I answer for't, and take the sin upon me. (Elmire coughs still louder.) Your cough is very bad. ELMIRE Yes, I'm in torture. TARTUFFE Would you accept this bit of licorice? ELMIRE The case is obstinate, I find; and all The licorice in the world will do no good. TARTUFFE 'Tis very trying. ELMIRE More than words can say. TARTUFFE In any case, your scruple's easily Removed. With me you're sure of secrecy, And there's no harm unless a thing is known. The public scandal is what brings offence, And secret sinning is not sin at all. ELMIRE (after coughing again) So then, I see I must resolve to yield; I must consent to grant you everything, And cannot hope to give full satisfaction Or win full confidence, at lesser cost. No doubt 'tis very hard to come to this; 'Tis quite against my will I go so far; But since I must be forced to it, since nothing
Society has claims on us all; and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody." Elizabeth's spirits were so high on this occasion, that though she did not often speak unnecessarily to Mr. Collins, she could not help asking him whether he intended to accept Mr. Bingley's invitation, and if he did, whether he would think it proper to join in the evening's amusement; and she was rather surprised to find that he entertained no scruple whatever on that head, and was very far from dreading a rebuke either from the Archbishop, or Lady Catherine de Bourgh, by venturing to dance. "I am by no means of the opinion, I assure you," said he, "that a ball of this kind, given by a young man of character, to respectable people, can have any evil tendency; and I am so far from objecting to dancing myself, that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all
Exit ROSENCRANTZ Wilt please you go, my lord? HAMLET I'll be with you straight go a little before. Exeunt all except HAMLET How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;' Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me: Witness this army of such mass and charge Led by a delicate and tender prince, Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd Makes mouths at the invisible event, Exposing what is mortal and unsure
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