Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
I am sure care 's an enemy to life. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
At my fingers' ends. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
Wherefore are these things hid? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
One draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
We will draw the curtain and show you the picture. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
-Sir To.
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
These most brisk and giddy-paced times. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
-Duke.
O shame, where is thy blush?
Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all! Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes.
He was not born to shame. Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned Sole monarch of the universal earth.
The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively have quit it.
O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dashed all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished!
