Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Conjure with 'em,--
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king.
Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men.
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit
That could be moved to smile at anything.
But, for my own part, it was Greek to me.
'T is a common proof,
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend.
Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream:
The Genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.
A dish fit for the gods.
But when I tell him he hates flatterers,
He says he does, being then most flattered.
Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter;
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber:
Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
With an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave sign for me to leave you.
You are my true and honourable wife,
As dear to me as are the ruddy drops
That visit my sad heart.
Think you I am no stronger than my sex,
Being so father'd and so husbanded?
Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds,
In ranks and squadrons and right form of war,
Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol.
These things are beyond all use,
And I do fear them.
When beggars die, there are no comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.
Cæs. The ides of March are come.
Sooth. Ay, Cæsar; but not gone.
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
Et tu, Brute!
How many ages hence
Shall this our lofty scene be acted over
In states unborn and accents yet unknown!
The choice and master spirits of this age.
Though last, not least in love.
