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Shakespeare Quotes from King John
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow.— filed under Art
Of Nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast And with the half-blown rose.— filed under Beauty
Well, whiles I am a beggar I will rail And say, there is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say, there is no vice but beggary.— filed under Belief
Pleasure. L. 643. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death; And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.— filed under Birds-Cuckoo
When we were happy we had other names.— filed under Change
O lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure!— filed under Childhood
He talks to me that never had a son.— filed under Content
By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavour for defence; For courage mounteth with occasion:— filed under Courage
When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness.— filed under Covetousness
Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come. Julius Cæsar. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 33. Dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.— filed under Cowardice-Cowards
Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villany! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety!— filed under Cowardice-Cowards
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, Whose valor plucks dead lions by the beard.— filed under Cowardice-Cowards
Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream. Julius Cæsar. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 63. Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damn'd, Hubert.— filed under Crime
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton.— filed under Death
What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the calendar?— filed under Death
Death, death'; oh, amiable, lovely death! * * * * * * Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest. C.— filed under Death
We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.— filed under Death
Think you I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life?— filed under Destiny
Heralds, from off our towers we might behold, From first to last, the onset and retire Of both your armies; whose equality By our best eyes cannot be censured : Blood hath bought blood and blows have answer'd blows; Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power: Both are alike; and both alike we like.— filed under Equality
She in beauty, education, blood, Holds hand with any princess of the world.— filed under Equality
The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye: that close aspect of his Does show the mood of a much troubled breast.— filed under Eyes
Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies.— filed under Falsehood
And oftentimes, excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach, Discredit more in hiding of the fault, Than did the fault before it was so patched.— filed under Faults
For I am sick and capable of fears, Opress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears, A widow, husbandless, subject to fears, A woman, naturally born to fears.— filed under Fear
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.— filed under Folly
When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye.— filed under Fortune
And, father cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born.— filed under Futurity
This act is as an ancient tale new told; And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.— filed under Gossip
Are not great Men the models of nations? OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)- Lucile. Pt. II. Canto VI. St. 29. That man is great, and he alone, Who serves a greatness not his own, For neither praise nor pelf: Content to know and be unknown: Whole in himself. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)-- A Great Man. Are yet two Romans living such as these? The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! Julius Cæsar. Act V. Sc. 3. L. 98. But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great.— filed under Greatness
For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop.— filed under Grief
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?— filed under Grief
I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: O, if I could, what grief should I forget!— filed under Grief
Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note In the fair multitude of those her hairs! Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends Do glue themselves in sociable grief, Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, Sticking together in calamity.— filed under Hair
Nay, but make haste; the better foot before. S.— filed under Haste
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names.— filed under Honor
I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself.— filed under Insanity
Kindness. When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, The best I had, a princess wrought it me, And I did never ask it you again; And with my hand at midnight held your head, And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time, Saying, "What lack you?" and, "Where aying ies lies your grief?"— filed under Kindness
Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, As seal to this indenture of my love.— filed under Kisses
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.— filed under Life
He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.— filed under Matrimony
And so he'll die; and, rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him.— filed under Meeting
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered.— filed under News
The glorious sun Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, Turning with splendour of his precious eye The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight: Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
News fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible.— filed under Occupations-Journalism
When law can do no right, Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong. C.— filed under Occupations-Law
Many carriages he hath dispatched.— filed under Occupations-Law
S. Man. Use three Physicians, Still-first Dr. Quiet, Next Dr. Merry-man And Dr. Dyet. From Regimen Sanitatis Salernitanum. Edition 1607. Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest; evils that take leave, On their departure most of all show evil.— filed under Ovid
Urge them while their souls Are capable of this ambition, Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath Of soft petitions, pity and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was.— filed under Oratory
O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world.— filed under Passion
A little snow, tumbled about, anon becomes a mountain. dd.— filed under Proverbs
And he that stands upon a slippery place Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.— filed under Proverbs
Strong reasons make strong actions.— filed under Viii
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,— filed under Rebellion
Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; Threaten the threat'ner and outface the brow Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviours from the great, Grow great by your example and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution.— filed under Resolution
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth.— filed under Singers
Here I and sorrows sit: Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.— filed under Sorrow
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud.— filed under Sorrow
Within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor.— filed under Sorrow
Introduction. I had a thing to say, But I will fit it with some better time.— filed under Speech
What cracker is this same that deafs our ears With this abundance of superfluous breath? S.— filed under Tea
Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.— filed under Temptation
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes ill deeds done!— filed under Temptation
I drew this gallant head of war, And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world, To outlook conquest and to win renown Even in the jaws of danger and of death.— filed under War
Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace.— filed under War
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath And ready mounted are they to spit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls.— filed under War
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind which enkindled it.— filed under War
Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words Since I first call'd my brother's father dad.— filed under Words
I would that I were low laid in my grave; I am not worth this coil that's made for me. U.— filed under Worth