Home › By Play › Cymbeline
Shakespeare Quotes from Cymbeline
108 passages from Dictionary of Shakespearian Quotations (1892), each filed under the passion it answers.
Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, And vent it for a mockery?— filed under Aversion
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow.— filed under Baseness
By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not,— filed under Beauty
The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew!— filed under Benediction
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 Braggarts
Not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none.— filed under Brains
Britain is A world by itself; and we will nothing pay— filed under Britain
For wearing our own noses. Which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in— filed under Britain
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters. I' the world's volume, Our Britain is as of it, but not in it;— filed under Britain
You lay out too much pains,— filed under Care
His humour Was nothing but mutation; Ay and that— filed under Change
I thought her As chaste as unsunn'd snow.— filed under Dissolving
But his neat cookery! He cut our roots in characters; And sauc'd our broths as Juno had been sick, And he her dieter.— filed under Cookery
This, or else nothing, will inherit her. Frame yourself To orderly solicits; and be friended With aptness to the season: make denials Increase your services: so seem, as if You were inspir'd to do those duties which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends,— filed under Courtship
dinate. Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base : Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace.— filed under Toward
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard. K.J. ii. 1. Plenty and peace, breed cowards: hardness ever Of hardiness is mother.— filed under Coward
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night!-that dawning May bare the raven's eye.— filed under Dawn
To-day, how many would have giver their honours To have sav'd their carcasses! took heel to do't, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; Nor feel him, where he struck.— filed under Death
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Will seize the doctor too.— filed under Death
Pr'ythee, have done, And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration, what Is now due debt. To the grave.— filed under Death
Thersites' body is as good as Ajax' When neither are alive.— filed under Death
Being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war.— filed under Death
'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind.— filed under Delusion
Thus may poor fools believe false teachers.— filed under Delusion
The cloyed will (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, That tub both fill'd and running) ravening first The lamb, longs after for the garbage.— filed under Desire
Then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to wither.— filed under Desolation
I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Than priests and fanes that lie.— filed under Dirge
By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, Armed in proof, led on by shallow Richmond. R. III. v 3. Poor wretches, that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done, Awake, and find nothing.— filed under Dreams
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 Fond
They are worthy To inlay heaven with stars.— filed under Excellence
And perfected by the swift course of time. Experience, O, thou disprov'st report!— filed under Experience
Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery. But that it eats our victuals, I should think— filed under Fairies
Nothing routs us But the villainy of our fears.— filed under Fear
O, a sin in war, Damn'd in the first beginners!— filed under Fear
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.— filed under Fool
Kneel not to me; The power that I have on you, is to spare you; The malice toward you, to forgive you: Live, And deal with others better.— filed under Forgiveness
Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steep'd in favours.— filed under Fortune
Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes: Some falls are means the happier to arise.— filed under Fortune
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd.— filed under Fortune
And 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief; Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man: what Can it not do, and undo?— filed under Gold
Let us Find out the prettiest daisied spot we can, And make him, with our pikes and partizans, A grave.— filed under Grave
Our most persisted deeds. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less.— filed under Rief
Stoop, boys: this gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens; and bows you To morning's holy office: The gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high, that giants jet through And keep their impious turbans on, without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i'the rock, yet use thee not so hardly— filed under Humble
O the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it: of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: Your neck, Sir, is pen, book, and counters, so the acquittance follows.— filed under Hanging
empty. Hanging is the word, Sir; if you be ready for that, you— filed under Hanging
Hitting Each object with a joy; the counterchange— filed under Happiness
He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming.— filed under Honour
Often to our comfort shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-wing'd eagle.— filed under Humility
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing.— filed under Interruption, Violent
Mulmutius, Who was the first of Britain, that did put His brows within a golden crown, and called Himself a king.— filed under Kings
Two beggars told me, I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need; and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.— filed under Letter
Blessed be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills,— filed under Liberty
I see, a man's life is a tedious one.— filed under Life
Love's reason's without reason.— filed under Love
Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor mine heart, That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious To have mistrusted her.— filed under Love
O, men's vows are women's traitors.— filed under Lover's Vows
O, melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiest harbour in?— filed under Melancholy
Beaten for loyalty, Excited me to treason.— filed under Misrule
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd but of those Who worship dirty gods.— filed under Money
Nature hath meal, and bran; contempt, and grace.— filed under Nature
How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature!— filed under Nature
Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say-good night, till it be morrow. R. J. ii. 2. For so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits or stirs of his mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship.— filed under Parting
I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours, * * * Such thoughts, and such; * * * or have charg'd him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, T' encounter me with orisons; for then, I am in heaven for him; 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 Parting
And even there, his eyes being big with tears, Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, And with affection wondrous sensible, He wrung Bassanio's hand, and so they parted. M. V. ii. 8. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but To look upon him; till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat, to air; and then Have turn'd mine eye, and wept.— filed under Farting
Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow.— filed under Farting
I do note, That grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs together.— filed under Patience
Grow, patience! And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine— filed under Patience
Our subjects, Sir, Will not endure his yoke.— filed under Patriotism
What! are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes, To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones Upon the unnumber'd beach; and can we not Partition make, with spectacles so precious,— filed under Perception, Human
What kind of catechizing call you this? Disloyal? No: She's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes, More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults As would take in some virtue.— filed under Persecution
But if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity, As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!— filed under Pity
O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart With pity, that dath make me sick.— filed under Pity
Lovers, And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike. CyT. iii.— filed under Praise
The very ice of chastity is in them. He's honourable, And, doubling that, most holy.— filed under Purity
Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour,. Which then he wore.— filed under Recognition
Those that I reverence, those I fear; the wise: At fools I laugh, not fear them.— filed under Regard
I had rather Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, Than have seen this.— filed under Regret
I see you have some religion in you, that you fear.— filed under Religion
Rivetted, Screw'd to my memory.— filed under Remembrance
Whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes: and will, to ears and tongues, * Be theme and hearing ever.— filed under Remembrance
I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me.— filed under Resolution
That angel of the world doth make distinction Of place 'twixt high and low.— filed under Reverence
The ruin speaks, that sometime it was a worthy building.— filed under Ruins
"Tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting wind, 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
Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth Finds the down pillow hard.— filed under Sleep
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her.— filed under Sleep
What pleasure, Sir, find we in life, to lock it from action and adventure?— filed under Sloth
Society is no comfort To one not sociable.— filed under Society
Frame yourself To orderly solicits; and be friended With aptness of the season.— filed under Solicitation
It doth confirm Another stain, as big as hell can hold.— filed under Stain
Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine, That cravens my weak hand.— filed under Suicide
When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers by to curtail his oaths.— filed under Swearing
And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure.— filed under Swearing
If Cæsar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light.— filed under Taxation
Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe.— filed under Traitor
All solemn things Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys, Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.— filed under Trifling, Ill-Timed
Pr'ythee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious.— filed under Trifling, Ill-Timed
To the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan.— filed under Vituperation
Thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made Comparative for your virtues to be styl'd The under hangman of his kingdom, and hated For being preferr'd so well.— filed under Vituperation
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villany; not born, wher't grows; But worn, a bait for ladies:— filed under Vows
A waggish courage; Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and As quarrelous as a weasel.— filed under Waggery
The toil of the war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the search.— filed under War
Shakesprarian Dictionary. WER I do believe, Statist though I am none, nor like to be, That this will prove a war.— filed under War
Winning would put any man into courage.— filed under Winning
O most delicate fiend!— filed under Woman
Will deign to dip or touch one drop of it. Can my sides hold, to think, that man,-who knows By history, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be,-will his free hours languish for Assured bondage?— filed under Woman
The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm It is the woman's part: Be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions , covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longings, slanders, mutability: All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers, in part, or all; but, rather, all :- For even to vice They are not constant, but are changing still One vice, but of a minute old, for one Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them :-Yet 'tis greater skill, In a true hate, to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better.— filed under Woman
sing all manner of songs. How you speak! Did you but know the city's usuries, And felt them knowingly: the art o' the court, As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb Is certain falling; or so slippery, that The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' the name of fame, and honour, which dies i' the search; And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph, As record of fair act; nay, many times, Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, Must court'sey at the censure: -0, boys, this story,— filed under World