Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
If but a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a call To train ten thousand English to their side, Or as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a mountain.
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.
O that I were a mockery king of snow, Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke To melt myself away in water drops!
Lawn as white as driven snow, Cyprus black as e'er was crow, Gloves as sweet as damask roses, Masks for faces and for noses, Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber, Golden quoifs and stomachers For my lads to give their dears, Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel.
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night. Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. Come, but one verse.
I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but the saying is true, 'The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.'
What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!
For you know, nuncle, The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long That it's had it head bit off by it young.
O Cicero, I have seen tempests when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds; But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
Why, now blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark! The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
As far as could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm, And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, I took a costly jewel from my neck, A heart it was, bound in with diamonds, And threw it toward thy land.
A little gale will soon disperse that cloud And blow it to the source from whence it came. Thy very beams will dry those vapors up, For every cloud engenders not a storm.
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow, You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our steeples, downed the cocks.
Merciful heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man, Dressed in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured His glassy essence--like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens, would all themselves laugh mortal.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion.
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired And thus, expiring, do foretell of him: His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, For violent fires soon burn out themselves; Small show'rs last long, but sudden storms are short; He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding doth choke the feeder; Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth.
But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
His eye begets occasion for his wit; For every object that the one doth catch The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words, That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished, So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Out of their saddles into the dirt--and thereby hangs a tale.
In that day's feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He prov'd best man i' th' field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak.
O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
Robust grass endures mighty winds; loyal ministers emerge through ordeal.
O, it is excellent to have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.
