Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
The game is up.
No, 't is slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie
All corners of the world.
Some jay of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion.
It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness.
I have not slept one wink.
Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with.
Weariness
Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth
Finds the down pillow hard.
An angel! or, if not,
An earthly paragon!
Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys
Is jollity for apes and grief for boys.
And put
My clouted brogues from off my feet.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
O, never say hereafter
But I am truest speaker. You call'd me brother
When I was but your sister.
Like an arrow shot
From a well-experienc'd archer hits the mark
His eye doth level at.
3 Fish. Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea.
1 Fish. Why, as men do a-land: the great ones eat up the little ones.
Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear.
For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.
The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light.
For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
And stretched metre of an antique song.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories, once foil'd,
Is from the books of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Full many a glorious morning have I seen.
My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
