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Shakespeare Quotes from Henry VIII
Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear'd.— filed under Action
We must not stint Our necessary actions, in the fear To cope malicious censurers.— filed under Action
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little.— filed under Adversity
Bosom up my counsel, You'll find it wholesome.— filed under Advice
O, father Abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity!— filed under Affliction
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?— filed under Ambition
No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay. Scott-Rokeby. Canto VI. St. 21. Anger is like A full-hot horse; who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.— filed under Anger
What sudden anger's this? How have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him; Then makes him nothing.— filed under Anger
Read o'er this; And after, this; and then to breakfast, with What appetite you have.— filed under Appetite
Heaven bless thee! Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on; Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel.— filed under Beauty
And to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died fearing God.— filed under Bells
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.— filed under Change
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.— filed under Character
So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!— filed under Charity
That comfort comes too late; 'Tis like a pardon after execution; That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me; But now I am past all comforts here, but Prayers.— filed under Comfort
I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities; A still and quiet conscience.— filed under Conscience
Now, if you can blush and cry "guilty," cardinal, You'll show a little honesty.— filed under Conscience
Our content Is our best having.— filed under Content
'Tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.— filed under Content
The mirror of all courtesy.— filed under Covetousness
Men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been; 'tis a cruelty To load a falling man.— filed under Cruelty
New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are followed.— filed under Dancing
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than war or women have. S.— filed under Danger
He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.— filed under Death
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.— filed under Destiny
I have touched the highest point of all my greatness: And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting.— filed under Destiny
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself.— filed under Enjoyment
I do believe, Induced by potent circumstances, that You are mine enemy, and make my challenge You shall not be my judge.— filed under Enjoyment
That you have many enemies, that know not Why they are so, but, like to village-curs, Bark when their fellows do.— filed under Enjoyment
In seeking tales and informations Against this man, whose honesty the devil And his disciples only envy at, Ye blew the fire that burns ye.— filed under Envy
There is a fellow somewhat near the door; he should be a brazier by his face.— filed under Face
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they've worn out Christendom.— filed under Fashion
Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue Are to be feared.— filed under Fear
ow bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily. Cymbeline-Act II. Sc. 2. L. 15. Like the lily, That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd, I'll hang my head and perish.— filed under Flowers-Lily
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels, Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends And give your hearts to, when they once perceive The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, never found again But where they mean to sink ye.— filed under Friends
I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me.— filed under Glory
Your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolv'd him with an axe.— filed under Gossip
Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.— filed under Hope
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.— filed under Judges
Therefore I say again, I utterly abhor, yea from my soul Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more, I hold my most malicious foe, and think not At all a friend to truth.— filed under Judges
What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act.— filed under Judgment
He has strangled His language in his tears.— filed under Language
O! good my lord, no Latin; I'm not such a truant since my coming, As not to know the language I have liv'd in.— filed under Linguists
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most, to my capacity. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 104. Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee.— filed under Love
Men that make Envy and crooked malice nourishment, . Dare bite the best.— filed under Man
Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by; In sweet music is such art: Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.— filed under Music
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers, There had made a lasting spring.— filed under Music
The choir, With all the choicest music of the kingdom, Together sung Te Deum.— filed under Music
And Nature does require Her times of preservation, which perforce I, her frail son, amongst my brethern mortal, Must give my tendance to.— filed under Nature
Press not a falling man too far! 'tis virtue : His faults lie open to the laws; let them, Not you, correct him.— filed under Occupations-Law
In this point All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic After his patient's death.— filed under Occupations-Medicine
'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases Are grown so catching.— filed under Occupations-Medicine
When I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, * * * * * * Say, I taught thee.— filed under Occupations-Tailoring
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues.— filed under Peace
Go with me, like good angels, to my end; And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven.— filed under Prayer
My prayers Are not words duly hallow'd nor my wishes More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes Are all I can return.— filed under Prayer
I have ventur'd, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me.— filed under Pride
hh. All hoods make not monks. ii.— filed under Proverbs
Be advis'd; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running.— filed under Prudence
These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times.— filed under Repose
O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars and women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.— filed under Royalty
She had all the royal makings of a queen; As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems Laid nobly on her.— filed under Royalty
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.— filed under Service
'Tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.— filed under Sorrow
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not; But to those men that sought him sweet as summer.— filed under Students
To climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first.— filed under Success
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father.— filed under Tea
The red wine first must rise In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em Talk us to silence.— filed under Tea
He has strangled His language in his tears.— filed under Tears
I am about to weep; but, thinking that We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain The daughter of a king, my drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire.— filed under Tears
I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.— filed under Tears
Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only Which your disease requires.— filed under Temptation
You play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.— filed under Tongues
Travell'd gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.— filed under Treason
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather.— filed under Woman
'Tis well said again; And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well : And yet words are no deeds.— filed under Words