Who does i' the wars more than his captain can
Becomes his captain's captain; and ambition,
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,
Than gain which darkens him.
He wears the rose
Of youth upon him.
Men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them,
To suffer all alike.
To business that we love we rise betime,
And go to 't with delight.
This morning, like the spirit of a youth
That means to be of note, begins betimes.
The shirt of Nessus is upon me.
Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish;
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon 't.
That which is now a horse, even with a thought
The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water.
Since Cleopatra died,
I have liv'd in such dishonour that the gods
Detest my baseness.
I am dying, Egypt, dying.
O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
The soldier's pole is fallen.
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion.
For his bounty,
There was no winter in 't; an autumn 't was
That grew the more by reaping.
If there be, or ever were, one such,
It's past the size of dreaming.
Mechanic slaves
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers.
I have
Immortal longings in me.
Lest the bargain should catch cold and starve.
Hath his bellyful of fighting.
How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily.
The most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace.
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise.
As chaste as unsunn'd snow.
Some griefs are medicinable.
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk.
So slippery that
The fear's as bad as falling.