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Shakespeare Quotes from Cymbeline
What should we speak of When we are old as you? When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December. C.— filed under Affliction
Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes?— filed under Apparel
My circumstances Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe.— filed under Belief
I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams.— filed under Birds-Falcon
The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew!— filed under Blessings
What art thou? Have not I An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not My dagger in my mouth.— filed under Bravery
Your cause doth strike my heart.— filed under Cause
Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blur'd those lines of favour Which then he wore.— filed under Character
night before his death. As chaste as unsunn'd snow.— filed under Chastity
My circumstances Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe.— filed under Circumstance
Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace.— filed under Comparisons
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds!— filed under Covetousness
For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. Venus and Adonis. L. 1,019. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.— filed under Death
When I was stamp'd, some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit.— filed under Deceit
I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought But beggary and poor looks.— filed under Deeds
the Washington Centennial Service. New York, April 30, 1889. But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. S.— filed under Disappointment
Mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust.— filed under Equality
To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.— filed under Falsehood
It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't. и.— filed under Fear
Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious To have mistrusted her.— filed under Flirting
Thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azur'd harebell, like thy veins.— filed under Flowers-Honeysuckle
And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes.— filed under Flowers-Lotus
Fools are not mad folks.— filed under Pope
Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer'd.— filed under Fortune
They are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet.— filed under Gentleness
There is gold for you. Sell me your good report.— filed under Gold
'Tis gold Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand o' the stealer: and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man.— filed under Gold
Great griefs, I see, medicine the less.— filed under Grief
That we two are asunder; let that grieve him; Some griefs are medicinable.— filed under Grief
Yet 'tis greater skill In a true hate, to pray they have their will.— filed under Hatred
For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men. 0. Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 87. For he's honourable And doubling that, most holy.— filed under Honor
Psalm LIX. Our stomachs Will make what's homely savoury.— filed under Hunger
They are not constant, but are changing still— filed under Inconstancy
And often, to our comfort, shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-winged eagle.— filed under Insects-Bee
Your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscalable, and roaring waters.— filed under Jealousy
Or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing.— filed under Kisses
With his eyes in flood with laughter.— filed under Laughter
I know not why I love this youth; and I have heard you say, Love's reason's without reason.— filed under Love
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villany; not born where 't grows, But worn a bait for ladies.— filed under Matrimony
O melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiliest harbour in?— filed under Melancholy
When we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?— filed under Monuments
I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate.— filed under Music
How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature!— filed under Nature
If it be summer news, Smile to 't before: if winterly, thou need'st But keep that countenance still.— filed under News
When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.— filed under Oaths
And then a whoreson jackanapes must take up for me up for swearing as if I borrowed mine swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure my pleasure.— filed under November
When on my three-foot stool I sit.— filed under Occupations-Cabinet-Making
Your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith.— filed under Occupations-Jeweler
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness.— filed under Occupations-Law
By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death Will seize the doctor too.— filed under Occupations-Medicine
Hast thou not learn'd me how To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections?— filed under Occupations-Painting
Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes? No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee. C.— filed under Occupations-Tailoring
47. . Sc. 3. L. Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk.— filed under Prison
on Ethical Philosophy. Remarks on Thomas Brown. The game is up.— filed under Iii
Rest is sweet after strife. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)- Lucile. Pt. I. Canto VI. St. 25. Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard.— filed under Results
The gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on.— filed under Royalty
I'll speak to thee in silence.— filed under Silence
'Tis 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; kings, queens and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.— filed under Slander
He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache.— filed under Sleep
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her And be her sense but as a monument.— filed under Sleep
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. ScoTT-Marmion. Canto V. St. 12. Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh Was that it was, for not being such a smile: The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly From so divine a temple, to commix With winds that sailors rail at.— filed under Snow
Society is no comfort To one not sociable.— filed under Society
Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth.— filed under Stars
Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand.— filed under Suicide
Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe.— filed under Treason
Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, Of Flodden's fatal field, When shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear, And broken was her shield! S. ScoTT-Marmion. Canto VI. St. 34. All was lost, But that the heavens fought.— filed under War
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship dirty gods.— filed under Wealth
O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman?— filed under Woman
Stoop, boys: this gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you To morning's holy office.— filed under Worth