ows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely.

_Hamlet_, act i, sc. 2 (133).

(2) _Titus._

Such withered herbs as these
Are meet for plucking up.

_Titus Andronicus_, act iii, sc. 1 (178).

(3) _York._

Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,
My Uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother. "Ay," quoth my Uncle Glo'ster,
"Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace;"
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.

_Richard III_, act ii, sc. 4 (10).

(4) _Queen._

Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.

_2nd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 1 (31).

(5)

Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring,
Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers.

_Lucrece_ (869).

(6) _K. Henry._

Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds.

_2nd Henry IV_, act iv, sc. 4 (54).

The weeds of Shakespeare need no remark; they were the same as ours;
and, in spite of our improved cultivation, our fields and gardens are
probably as full of weeds as they were three centuries ago.

B. BLIGHTS, FROSTS, ETC.

(1) _York._

Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away.

_2nd Henry VI_, act iii, sc. 1 (89).

(2) _Montague._

But he, his own affection's counsellor,
Is to himself--I will not say, how true--
But to himself so sweet and close,
So far from sounding and discovery,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.

_Romeo and Juliet_, act i, sc. 1 (153).

(3) _Imogene._

Comes in my father,
And like the tyrannous breathing of the north
Shakes all our buds from growing.

_Cymbeline_, act i, sc. 3 (35).

(4) _Bardolph._

A cause on foot
Lives so in hope as in an early spring