Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows.
The bookish theoric.
'T is the curse of service,
Preferment goes by letter and affection,
And not by old gradation, where each second
Stood heir to the first.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd.
Whip me such honest knaves.
I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at.
You are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you.
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace:
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field,
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle,
And therefore little shall I grace my cause
In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
Of my whole course of love.
Her father loved me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have passed.
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field,
Of hair-breadth'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach,
Of being taken by the insolent foe
And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence
And portance in my travels' history;
Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven,
It was my hint to speak,--such was the process;
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline.
And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;
She swore, in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange,
'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful;
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That Heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have used.
I do perceive here a divided duty.
The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down.
I saw Othello's visage in his mind.
Put money in thy purse.
The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.
Framed to make women false.
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens.
For I am nothing, if not critical.
I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
She that was ever fair and never proud,
Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud.
She was a wight, if ever such wight were,--
Des. To do what?
Iago. To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
Des. O most lame and impotent conclusion!
You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
