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Shakespeare Quotes from Hamlet
How abhorred in my imagination it is!— filed under Abhorrence
I have shot mine arrow o'er the house And hurt my brother.— filed under Accident
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature.— filed under Action
Season your admiration for awhile.— filed under Admiration
An old man is twice a child.— filed under Affliction
AGE (OLD). At your age, The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment.— filed under Affliction
The noble Brutus Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious; If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Cæsar answered it. Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 75. The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.— filed under Ambition
Angel's Story. A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing. и. SAM'L ROGERS-Human Life. L. 353. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!— filed under Angels
A vest as admired Voltiger had on, Which from this Island's foes his grandsire won, Whose artful colour pass'd the Tyrian dye, Obliged to triumph in this legacy. The British Princes. 1669. P. 96. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man.— filed under Apparel
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this.— filed under Apparitions
Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks.— filed under Belief
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh— filed under Bells
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day.— filed under Birds-Canary
The morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, And vanish'd from our sight.— filed under Birds-Canary
Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping.— filed under Birds-Dove
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark. Taming of the Shrew. Induction. Sc. 2. L. 45. I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.— filed under Birds-Humming-Bird
The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.— filed under Birds-Raven
Literature. The Bibliomania. Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.— filed under Borrowing
Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.— filed under Butchering
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:— filed under Butchering
For some must watch, while some must sleep: So runs the world away. č.— filed under Care
Find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause.— filed under Cause
That we would do, We should do when we would; for this "would" changes And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; And then this "should" is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing.— filed under Change
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change.— filed under Change
the Duke of Bedford. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.— filed under Character
But I have that within which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.— filed under Character
Though I am not splenitive and rash, Yet have I something in me dangerous.— filed under Character
Charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Richard III. Act. I. Sc. 2. L. 68. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart.— filed under Charity
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together. Passionate Pilgrim. Pt. XII. Hyperion to a satyr.— filed under Comparisons
No more like my father Than I to Hercules.— filed under Comparisons
and Religion. Function of the Artist. Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.— filed under Confession
Confess yourself to heaven; Repent what's past; avoid what is to come.— filed under Confession
Nor do we find him forward to be sounded But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession Of his true state.— filed under Confession
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.— filed under Conscience
Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me.— filed under Content
You must not think That we are made of stuff so fat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime.— filed under Courage
Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.— filed under Crime
I must be cruel, only to be kind.— filed under Cruelty
But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom More honor'd in the breach than the observance.— filed under Dancing
That monster, custom, *** is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on.— filed under Dancing
the King of Naples. 1830 For though I am not splenitive and rash, Yet have I something in me dangerous.— filed under Danger
Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd; No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head.— filed under Death
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.— filed under Death
I do not set my life at a pin's fee; And, for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?— filed under Death
O proud death, What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, That thou so many princes at a shot So bloodily hast struck?— filed under Death
That we shall die we know; 'tis but the time And drawing days out, that men stand upon. Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 99. The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets.— filed under Death
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.— filed under Death
To die:-to sleep : No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.— filed under Death
We should profane the service of the dead, To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls.— filed under Death
They fool me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by..— filed under Deceit
With an auspicious and a dropping eye, With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole.— filed under Decision
Letter XII. Man delights not me: no, nor woman neither, though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.— filed under Delight
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, a dew! Thaw and resolve itself into a dew !— filed under Despair
S. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two!— filed under Despair
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.— filed under Destiny
S. For some must watch, while some must sleep; So runs the world away.— filed under Destiny
Imperious Cæsar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!— filed under Destiny
Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew and dog will have his day.— filed under Destiny
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, And good from bad find no partition. Henry IV. Pt. II. Act. IV. Sc. 1. L. 194. What a falling-off was there!— filed under Destiny
Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables.— filed under Dew
Let your own discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action.— filed under Discretion
Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are reliev'd, Or not at all.— filed under Disease
To be, or not to be, that is the question : Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?— filed under Doubt
After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.— filed under Epitaph
Purposes mistook Fall'n on the inventors' heads.— filed under Eternity
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command.— filed under Eyes
Quoted by Daniel Webster. Speech. Sept. 30, 1842. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.— filed under Face
'Tis as easy as lying. S.— filed under Falsehood
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.— filed under Falsehood
Sweets to the sweet; farewell!— filed under Farewell
The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observ'd of all observers.— filed under Fashion
My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Numean lion's nerve.— filed under Fate
Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.— filed under Fate
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.— filed under Fear
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul.— filed under Flattery
Why should the poor be flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, Where thrift may follow fawning.— filed under Flirting
Flowers. Pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.— filed under Flowers-Pansy
Harem. There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.— filed under Flowers-Rosemary
Let the doors be shut upon him, that he play the fool nowhere but in's own house. may— filed under Folly
What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?— filed under Fortune
The great man down, you mark his favorite flies, The poor advanced makes friends of enemies.— filed under Fortune
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please.— filed under Fortune
Frailty, thy name is woman!— filed under Freedom
For who not needs shall never lack a friend, And who in want a hollow friend doth try, Directly seasons him his enemy.— filed under Friends
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.— filed under Friends
Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life; But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?— filed under Futurity
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove un kind.— filed under Gifts
There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; And nothing is at a like goodness still; For goodness, growing to a pleurisy, Dies in his own too much.— filed under Gossip
Lay her i' the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!— filed under Gratitude
The sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws.— filed under Gratitude
But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe.— filed under Grief
And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons.— filed under Hair
Heaven's face doth glow.— filed under Hell
Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.— filed under Honesty
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. Julius Cæsar. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 66. What's the news? None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. Then is doomsday near.— filed under Honesty
God has given you one face, and you make— filed under Hypocrisy
I will speak daggers to her, but use none; My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites. S.— filed under Hypocrisy
My tables, meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark.— filed under Hypocrisy
'Tis too much proved that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The devil himself.— filed under Hypocrisy
And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 14. In my mind's eye, Horatio.— filed under Imagination
This is the very coinage of your brain : This bodiless creation ecstasy.— filed under Imagination
It shall be so: Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go.— filed under Insanity
Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he is mad, 'tis true, 'tis true 'tis pity; And pity 'tis 'tis true.— filed under Insanity
Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.— filed under Insanity
So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt!— filed under Jealousy
trans. For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.— filed under Joy
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.— filed under Judgment
Use every man after his desert, and who should 'Scape whipping!— filed under Justice
There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.— filed under Knavery
I know a hawk from a handsaw.— filed under Knowledge
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.— filed under Knowledge
C. Head of Chapter. And a man's life's no more than to say "One."— filed under Life
Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee.— filed under Life
Forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum. C.— filed under Love
He is far gone, far gone and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this.— filed under Love
So loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.— filed under Love
This is the very ecstasy of love, Whose violent property foredoes itself, And leads the will to desperate undertakings.— filed under Love
What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth? Venus and Adonis. L. 202. Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; When little fears grow great, great love grows there.— filed under Love
To thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.— filed under Loyalty
Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.— filed under Man
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.— filed under Man
His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, This was a man! Julius Cæsar. Act V. Sc. 5. L. 73. I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.— filed under Man
The foremost man of all this world. Julius Cæsar. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 22. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me: no, nor women neither, though by your smiling, you seem to say so.— filed under Man
But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, Than that which with'ring on the virgin thorn Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 76. Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married.— filed under Matrimony
The instances that second marriage move Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.— filed under Matrimony
Die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.— filed under Memory
Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records.— filed under Memory
Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence?— filed under Mercy
What should a man do but be merry?— filed under Merriment
O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword!— filed under Mind
This grave shall have a living monument.— filed under Monuments
But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.— filed under Morning
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.— filed under Murder
Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange and unnatural.— filed under Murder
No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize.— filed under Murder
And it will discourse most eloquent music.— filed under Music
To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to Nature; to shew virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.— filed under Nature
In the dead vast and middle of the night.— filed under Night
Making night hideous.— filed under Night
'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.— filed under Night
The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.— filed under Observation
A hit, a very palpable hit.— filed under Occupations-Acting
Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act III. Sc. I. L. 74. Good, my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. C.— filed under Occupations-Acting
If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue. As You Like It. Epilogue. L. 3. I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play, Have, by the very cunning of the scene, Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.— filed under Occupations-Acting
Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd.— filed under Occupations-Acting
O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.— filed under Occupations-Acting
OCCUPATIONS-AGRICULTURE. 423 Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.— filed under Occupations-Acting
The play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.— filed under Occupations-Acting
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears.— filed under Occupations-Acting
Report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied.— filed under Occupations-Journalism
But is this law? Ay, marry is't; crowner's quest law.— filed under Occupations-Law
In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence.— filed under Occupations-Law
Com Come, my coach! Good-night, ladies.— filed under Occupations-Law
OCCUPATIONS-MERCANTILE. 441 No cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death.— filed under Occupations-Medicine
Look here, upon this picture, and on this.— filed under Occupations-Painting
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own rede.— filed under Occupations-Preaching
Has this fellow no feeling of his business that he sings at grave-making? Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. и.— filed under Occupations-Undertakers
The houses that he makes last till doomsday.— filed under Occupations-Undertakers
Give me that man That is not passion's slave.— filed under Passion
What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. aa.— filed under Passion
And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?— filed under Patience
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.— filed under Pity
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.— filed under Politics
ADDISON'S Cato. The devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.— filed under Power
Bow, stubborn knees! and heart with strings of steel Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe.— filed under Prayer
O my prophetic soul! My uncle!— filed under Prophecy
A little house well fill'd, a little field well till'd, and a little wife well will'd, are great riches. bb. Written in a copy of the Grete Herbell, 1561. A little more than kin, and less than kind.— filed under Proverbs
Arm'd at point exactly, cap-à-pie. T.— filed under Proverbs
Best safety lies in fear.— filed under Proverbs
Brevity is the soul of wit.— filed under Proverbs
Here's metal more attractive.— filed under Proverbs
The time is out of joint.— filed under Proverbs
There is a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.— filed under Providence
We defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come; the readiness is all.— filed under Providence
I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death That is but scratch'd withal.— filed under Quackery
Come, give us a taste of your quality.— filed under Quality
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.— filed under Quarreling
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd. L.— filed under Viii
What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it when one cannot repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that struggling to be free Art more engag'd!— filed under Repose
There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would.— filed under Royalty
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue.— filed under Secrecy
But that I am forbid, To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul.— filed under Secrecy
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still.— filed under Secrecy
Speak no more: Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; And there I see such black and grained spots As will not leave their tinct.— filed under Self-Love
O shame! Where is thy blush?— filed under Ships
The rest is silence.— filed under Silence
J. S. Easby-Smith's trans. This majestical roof fretted with golden fire.— filed under Singers
To sleep, perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.— filed under Sleep
One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.— filed under Snow
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions.— filed under Sorrow
He that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death. Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 101. The more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Christian.— filed under Suicide
All is not well; I doubt some foul play.— filed under Suspicion
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket!— filed under Thieving
Third Song. The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, "Now the king drinks to Hamlet."— filed under To-Day
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act. V. Sc. 1. L. 129. If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre.— filed under Truth
To thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.— filed under Truth
The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.— filed under Twilight
Saint Valentine is past; Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 144. To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine.— filed under Valor
And thus I clothe my naked villainy With old odd ends, stol'n out of holy writ, And seem a saint, when most I play the devil, p. Richard III. Act Sc. 3. L. 336. O villainy! Ho! let the door be lock'd; Treachery! seek it out.— filed under Villainy
According to his virtue let us use him, With all respect and rites of burial. Julius Cæsar. Act V. Sc. 5. L. 76. Assume a virtue, if you have it not.— filed under Virtue
For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg.— filed under Virtue
To show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.— filed under Virtue
Give me the cups; And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth.— filed under War
Rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words, With better appetite. Julius Cæsar. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 304. Since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.— filed under Wit
They have a plentiful lack of wit.— filed under Wit
Frailty, thy name is woman!- A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears;-why she, even she, *** married with my uncle.— filed under Woman
O day and night, but this is wondrous strange.— filed under Wooing
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: go . Words without thoughts never to heaven— filed under Words
น. Unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab.— filed under Words
What do you read, my lord? Words, words, words.— filed under Words
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! C.— filed under Work
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together; Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame. Age, I do abhor thee; youth I do adore thee. The Passionate Pilgrim. St. 12. For youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables, and his weeds Importing health and graveness.— filed under Youth