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Shakespeare Quotes from Richard II
Gardens. P. 92. (J. B. A., '85.) I give this heavy weight from off my head, And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; With mine own tears I wash away my value, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duteous oaths. C.— filed under Abdication
Direct not him, whose way himself will choose; 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.— filed under Affection
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite?— filed under Appetite
Have stooped my neck under your injuries And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment.— filed under Banishment
Speak with me, pity me, open the door: A beggar begs that never begg'd before.— filed under Belief
There I throw my gage, To prove it on thee to the extremest point Of mortal breathing.— filed under Challenge
The love of wicked men converts to fear; That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy Canger and deserved death.— filed under Change
I hate the murderer, love him murdered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word nor princely favour: With Cain go wander through shades of night, And never show thy head by day nor light.— filed under Conscience
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea.— filed under Countries-England
That which in mean men we entitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.— filed under Cowardice-Cowards
O, would the deed were good! For now the devil, that told me I did well, Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.— filed under Crime
And there at Venice gave His body to that pleasant country's earth, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, Under whose colours he had fought so long.— filed under Death
Go thou, and fill another room in hell. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand. Hath with thy king's blood stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die.— filed under Death
Let's choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so, for what can we bequeath, Save our desposed bodies to the ground?— filed under Death
Nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.— filed under Death
The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; His time is spent.— filed under Deceit
Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair. III. Sc. 2. L. 65 .— filed under Despair
It is as hard to come as for a camel To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.— filed under Difficulties
I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears.— filed under Discretion
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder.— filed under Eating
I do defy him, and I spit at him; Call him a slanderous coward and a villain: Which to maintain I would allow him odds, And meet him, were I tied to run afoot Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps.— filed under Enjoyment
Par. His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, For violent fires soon burn out themselves; Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short.— filed under Envy
Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs.— filed under Epitaph
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe.— filed under Fear
Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new come spring.— filed under Flowers-Violet
I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.— filed under Fortune
Superfluous branches We lop away, that bearing boughs may live.— filed under Fruits
The ripest fruit first falls.— filed under Fruits
Let's choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so, for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground?— filed under Gratitude
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, Divides one thing entire to many objects.— filed under Grief
My grief lies all within; And these external manners of laments Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.— filed under Grief
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it. X. Julius Cæsar. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 216. You may my glories and my state depose, But not my griefs; still am I king of those.— filed under Grief
Gardener, for telling me these news of woe, Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.— filed under Guests
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder.— filed under Haste
Damozel. All places that the eye of heaven visits, Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.— filed under Hell
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown.— filed under Holiness
Mine honour let me try: In that I live, and for that will I die.— filed under Honor
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: Suppose the singing birds musicians; The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd; The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delightful measure or a dance.— filed under Imagination
O, but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. He that no more must say is listen'd more.— filed under Language
I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends; And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true love's recompense.— filed under Memory
Misery makes sport to mock itself.— filed under Misery
Music do I hear? Ha! ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is, When time is broke and no proportion kept!— filed under Music
Now sit we close about this taper here, And call in question our necessities. Julius Cæsar. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 165. Teach thy necessity to reason thus; There is no virtue like necessity.— filed under Necessity
A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, Which is as brief as I have known a play; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, Which makes it tedious. Midsummer-Night's Dream. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 61. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious.— filed under Occupations-Acting
I'll give my jewels for a set of beads.— filed under Occupations-Jeweler
I am a subject, And I challenge law: attorneys are denied me; And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent.— filed under Occupations-Law
That which in mean men we entitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.— filed under Patience
I have been studying how I may compare unto the world: This prison where I live unto the world populous And for because the world is but myself, And here is not a creature but myself, it out I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.— filed under Prison
For young hot colts being rag'd, do rage the more.— filed under Proverbs
God defend the right.— filed under Proverbs
Things past redress are now with me past care.— filed under Proverbs
Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. aa.— filed under Proverbs
Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land Wherein thou liest in reputation sick.— filed under Resignation
Let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings: How some have been depos'd, some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd, Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd, All murder'd.— filed under Royalty
We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand.— filed under Royalty
Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye, As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth Controlling majesty.— filed under Royalty
Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, And water cannot wash away your sin. γ.— filed under Singers
His tongue is now a stringless instrument.— filed under Singers
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd and baffled here, - Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear.— filed under Slander
SORROW.. Joy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of sorrow.— filed under Sorrow
Sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.— filed under Sorrow
Your fair discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable.— filed under Spirits
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines And darts his light through every guilty hole.— filed under Sunrise
Low-Wood. The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last.— filed under Sunset
O, call back yesterday, bid time return.— filed under Time
My tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp.— filed under Tongues
They breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.— filed under Truth
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.— filed under Variety
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity- * * * * * * That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?— filed under Variety
Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum.— filed under War
I will go root away The noisome weeds which without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.— filed under Welcome
How long a time lies in one little word! . Four lagging winters and four wanton springs End in a word: such is the breath of kings— filed under Words