1 All these are portable, With other graces weigh'd.
2 He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear.'
3 Give me your hand; Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him.
4 All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
5 Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell: Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so.
6 With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy; And sundry blessings hang about his throne, That speak him full of grace.
7 The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth, Lives in the English court and is receiv'd Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect.
8 But I have none: the king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temp'rance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them; but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways.