_Measure for Measure_, act ii, sc. 2 (114).

(_See_ MYRTLE.)

(6) _1st Lord._

He lay along Under an Oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood.

_As You Like It_, act ii, sc. 1 (30).

(7) _Oliver._

Under an Oak, whose boughs were Mossed with age, And high top bald with dry antiquity.

_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 3 (156).

(8) _Paulina._

As ever Oak or stone was sound.

_Winter's Tale_, act ii, sc. 3 (89).

(9) _Messenger._

And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd Oak.

_3rd Henry VI_, act ii, sc. 1 (54).

(10) _Mrs. Page._

There is an old tale goes that Herne the Hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest, Doth all the winter time at still midnight Walk round about an Oak, with great ragg'd horns.

_Page._

Why yet there want not many that do fear In deep of night to walk by this Herne's Oak.

_Mrs. Ford._

That Falstaff at that Oak shall meet with us.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, act iv, sc. 4 (28).

_Fenton._

To night at Herne's Oak.

_Merry Wives of Windsor_, act iv, sc. 6 (19).

_Falstaff._

Be you in the park about midnight at Herne's Oak, and you shall see wonders.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 1 (11).

_Mrs. Page._

They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne's Oak.

_Mrs. Ford._

The hour draws on. To the Oak, to the Oak!

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 3 (14).

_Quickly._

Till 'tis one o'clock Our dance of custom round about the Oak Of Herne the Hunter, let us not forget.

_Ibid._, act v, sc. 5 (78).

(11) _Timon._

That numberless upon me stuck as leaves Do on the Oak, have with one winter's brush Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare For every storm that blows.

_Timon of Athens_, act iv, sc. 3 (263).

(12) _Timon._

The Oaks bear mast, the Briers scarlet hips.

_Ibid._ (422).