Every human feeling, answered by Shakespeare: an 1892 dictionary that files the Bard's best lines under the passions they express — from Ambition to Woe.
151 passages from Dictionary of Shakespearian Quotations (1892), each filed under the passion it answers.
Take heed, be wary how you place your words.— filed under Advice
The silver livery of advised age.— filed under Age
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, And twit with cowardice a man half dead?— filed under Age
What str. is this? what tumult's in the heavens? Whence meth this alarum, and the noise?— filed under Alarm
What see'st thou there? King Henry's diadem, Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face, Until thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold :- What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine : And, having both together heav'd it up, We'll both together lift our heads to heaven; And never more abase our sight so low, As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground,— filed under Ambition
Follow I must, I cannot go before, While Glo'ster bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling blocks, And smooth my way upon their headless necks.— filed under Ambition
Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool Art thou, to break into this woman's mood. H. IV. PT. I. i. 3 Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport.— filed under Anger
A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them? Would curses kill as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave: My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: And even now my burdened heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees! Their chiefest prospect, murd'ring basilisks! 'Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings! Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss ; And boding screech-owls make the concert full!— filed under Anger
His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless.— filed under Army
I had rather be a kitten, and cry,-mew, Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers : I had rather hear a brazen can'stick turn'd, Or a dry wheel grate on an axletree; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry; "Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.— filed under Ballads
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves. This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light; What time the shepherd blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day, or night. Now sways it this way like a mighty sea, Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea, Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind: Sometimes the flood prevails; and then the wind : Now, one the better; then, another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror nor conquered : So is the equal poize of the fell war.— filed under Battle
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. My sons, God knows,-what hath bechanced them: But this I know, they have demean'd themselves Like men borne to renown, by life, or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me; And thrice cried, -Courage, father! Fight it out! And full as oft came Edward to my side With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encountered him. And when the hardest warriors did retire, Richard cried,-Charge! and give no foot of ground! And cried,-A crown, or else a glorious tomb ! A sceptre! or an earthly sepulchre ! With this, we charg'd again.— filed under Battle
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece. As plays the sun upon the glassy streams; beam, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, to mine So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. eyes.— filed under Beauty
She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd: She is a woman ; therefore to be won. H. VI. PT. I. v.— filed under Beauty
The adage must be verified, That beggars mounted, run their horse to death.— filed under Beggars
Such a pleasure as incaged birds Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts, At last, by notes of household harmony, They quite.forget their loss of liberty.— filed under Birds, Encaged
I always thought, It was both impious and unnatural, That such immanity and bloody strife Should reign among professors of one faith.— filed under Cihivalry
Who should be pitiful if you be not? Or who should study to prefer a peace, If holy churchmen take delight in broils?— filed under Cihivalry
What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just And he but naked though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.— filed under Conscience
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.— filed under Conscience, Guilty
My masters of St. Alban's, have you not beadles in your— filed under Correction
Who dares do more, is none. Poems Things out of hope are compass't oft with vent'ring. Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. What though the mast be now blown overboard, The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? Yet lives our pilot still: Is't meet that he Should leave the helm, and like a fearful lad, With tearful eyes add water to the sea, And give more strength to that which hath too much; Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, Which industry and courage might have sav'd?— filed under Difficulties Of
I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, And deck my body in gay ornaments, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.— filed under Courtship
to get? Lady Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants.— filed under Courtship
So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench, Are from their hives, and houses, driven away. They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs; Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.— filed under Cowards
Sit mocking in our plumes. Did I but suspect a fearful man, He should have leave to go away betimes; Lest, in our need, he might infect another, And make him of like spirit to himself. If any such be here, as God forbid ! Let him depart before we need his help.— filed under Toward
To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill-beseeming any common man; Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.— filed under Toward
So cowards fight when they can fly no further: As doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.— filed under Coward
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears; This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away, aways: Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears; And say, Alas, it was a piteous deed! H. VI. PT. III. i. 4. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex, To triumph like an Amazonian trull, Upon their woes whom fortune captivates!— filed under Cruelty
There Monitaurs and ugly treason lurk. H. VI. PT. I. v. 3. Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.— filed under Danger
The welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.— filed under Danger
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation.— filed under Death
Receive what cheer you may; The night is long that never finds a day. M.iv.3. Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence.— filed under Death
I am resolv'd for death or dignity.— filed under Death
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, When death's approach is seen so terrible!— filed under Death
But, see, his face is black and full of blood; His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempests lodg'd.— filed under Death
That I must yield my body to the earth, And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept: Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world: The wrinkles in my brows now fill'd with blood, Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; For who liv'd king but I could dig his grave. Lo, now my glory, smear'd in dust and blood! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me; and, of all my lands, Is nothing left me but my body's length ! Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet, die we must.— filed under Drath
Great men oft die by vile bezonians: A Roman sworder and banditti slave, Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand Stabb'd Julius Cæsar; savage islanders Pompey the great: and Suffolk dies by pirates.— filed under Drath
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. R. II. iv. 1. Shall I be flouted thus with dunghill grooms!— filed under Defiance
I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face, Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.— filed under Defiance
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature with a bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ; To make an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body; To shape my legs of an unequal size; To disproportion me in every part; Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd? O, monstrous fault to harbour such a thought— filed under Deformity
It was my will and grant; And for this once, my will shall stand for law.— filed under Determination
What's more miserable than discontent?— filed under Discontent
With what a majesty he bears himself; How insolent of late he is become, How proud, peremptory, and unlike himself!— filed under Discontent
If I do not put on a sober habit, Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely; Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes Thus with hat, and sigh, and say, amen; Use all the observance of civility, Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his grandam, never trust me more. M.VB. Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; * And cry content to that which grieves my heart; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.— filed under Dissimulation
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words.— filed under Dissimulation
_'S DEFENCE. Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas, Which he hath given for fence impregnable, And with their helps, only, defend ourselves; In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.— filed under England
Lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave.— filed under Envy
Of all base passions, fear is most accurs'd.— filed under Fear
Thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest; A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. The purest spring is not so free from mud, As I am clear from treason to my sovereign.— filed under Fidelity
Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.— filed under Fortune
Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 'Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.— filed under Glory
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, But still remember what the Lord hath done.— filed under Gratitude
Grief softens the mind, and makes it fearful and degenerate.— filed under Grief
Why, courage, then what cannot be avoided, 'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear.— filed under Grief
What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide.— filed under Rief
Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.— filed under Rief
Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, I should lament thy miserable state. I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York; Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.— filed under Hatred
Like one that stands upon a promontory, And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way.— filed under Hope
Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd, For he's disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him, For he's inclin'd as are the ravenous wolves. Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit? Take heed my lord; the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.— filed under Hypocrisy
Gloster's show Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers; Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank, With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child, That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.— filed under Hypocrisy
Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; And in his simple show he harbours treason. The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb. No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.— filed under Hypocrisy
Kent, in the commentaries Cæsar writ, Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle: Sweet in the country, because full of riches; The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy.— filed under Kent
Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers, When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel; The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men, In undetermin'd differences of kings. KJ2 D but think, How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; Within whose circuit is Elysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy!— filed under Kings
passes some humours and careers. He is a happy king, since from his subjects He gains the name of good, by his government. P. P. i. 1. The hearts of princes kiss obedience, So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits, They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. H. VILC iii. L Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy, To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? 0, yes, it doth; a thousand fold it doth. And, to conclude, -The shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates; His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him.— filed under Kings
When first this order was ordain'd, my lords, Knights of the garter were of noble birth; Valiant, and virtuous, full of haughty courage, Such as were grown to credit by the wars: Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress, But always resolute in most extremes. He then that is not furnish'd in this sort, Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight. Profaning this most honourable order. H. VI. PT. 1. iv.— filed under Knights Of The Garter
I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, And spend her strength with over-matching waves.— filed under Labour In Vain
Wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.— filed under Lamentations
Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin— filed under Latin
Faith, I have been a truant in the law; And never yet could frame my will to it; And, therefore, frame the law unto my will.— filed under Law
The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.— filed under Law
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity?— filed under Lenity
cherished by our virtues. The sands are number'd that make up my life.— filed under Life
Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud; And, after summer, evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold : So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.— filed under Life
"Tis The royal disposition of that beast, A.Y.iv.3. To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch, That trembles under his devouring paws: And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.— filed under Lion
My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants.— filed under Love
Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart. heart. VI. P— filed under Love
Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship. For what is wedlock forced, but a hell, An age of discord and continual strife? Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss, And is a pattern of celestial peace.— filed under Manuscript
But yet, before we go, let's not forget The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, But see his ex quies fulfill'd in Roüen; A braver soldier never couched lance, A gentler heart did never sway in court: But kings and mightiest potentates must die: For that's the end of human misery.— filed under Mighty Dead
And, that hereafter ages may behold What ruin happen'd in revenge of him, Within their chiefest temple I'll erect A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd.— filed under Mighty Dead
I hold it cowardice, To rest mistrustful, where a noble heart Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love.— filed under Mistrust
See, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! How well resembles it the prince of youth, Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love!— filed under Morning
Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak, Even so suspicious is this tragedy.— filed under Murder
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals! How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! You have no children, butchers! if you had, The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse.— filed under Murder
The dragon wing of night o'er-spreads the earth. T. C. v. 9. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea; And now loud howling wolves arouse the jades Who, with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.— filed under Night
Contagion to the world. The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl.— filed under Night
It is a great sin, to swear unto a sin; But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath. Who can be bound by any solemn vow To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, To force a spotless virgin's chastity, To 'reave the orphan of his patrimony, To wrong the widow from her custom'd right; And have no other reason for this wrong, But that he was bound by a solemn mn oath?— filed under Oaths
I am that I am, and they that level At my abuses, reckon up their owne, I may be straight, though they themselves be bevell, By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be showne: Unless this general evil they maintaine, All men are bad, and in their badness raigne. Poems Because you want the grace that others have, You judge it straight a thing impossible To compass wonders, but by help of devils.— filed under Opinion
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.— filed under Opinion
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his, that spoils her young before her face. 3% Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Not he that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on, And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood.— filed under Oppression
How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines Of my boy's face, methought I did recoil Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd, In my green velvet coat; my dagger muzzled, Lest it should bite its master, and so prove As ornaments oft do, too dangerous. W.T You have no children, butchers! if you had, The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse.— filed under Parental Affection
Unreasonable creatures feed their young: And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Which sometimes they have us'd with fearful flight) Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young's defence?— filed under Parental Affection
These days are dangerous ! Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition, And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand.— filed under Party Rancour
Fie, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates, Thus contumeliously should break the peace.— filed under Peace
Who should study to preserve a peace If holy churchmen take delight in broils?— filed under Peace
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.— filed under Pomp
Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro, as this multitude?— filed under Popularity
Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust; Such is the lightness of you common men.— filed under Popularity
The common people swarm like summer flies, And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?— filed under Popularity
better ground. I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, My mercy dried their water-flowing tears: I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd Then why should they love Edward more than me? f— filed under Popularity
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees; The raven rooked her on the chimney top, And chattering pies in dismal discord sung.— filed under Portents
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next.— filed under Promises
'Tis sport to maul a runner. Mount you, my lord, tow'rd Berwick post amain; Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds, Having the fearful flying hare in sight, With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel, grasp'd in their ireful hands, Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.— filed under Pursuit
She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies— filed under Quality
Good lord! what madness rules in brain-sick men; When, for so slight and frivolous a cause, Such factious emulations shall arise!— filed under Quarrel
I dare say This quarrel will drink blood another day.— filed under Quarrel
O pity, God, this miserable age!- What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,— filed under Rebellion
To come ashore. You, lord Archbishop, - Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd; Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd; Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd; Whose white investments figure innocence, The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, - Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself, Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace, Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war? Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, Your pens to lances: and your tongue divine To a loud trumpet, and a point of war? H. IV. PT. II. iv. 1 The rebels are in Southwark; Fly, my lord! Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house, And calls your grace usurper, openly, And vows to crown himself in Westminster. His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless: Sir Humphrey Stafford, and his brothers' death, Hath given them heart and courage to proceed : All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, They call-false caterpillars, and intend their death.— filed under Rebellion
I tell thee, Jack Cade, the clothier, means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.— filed under Reform
We will not from the helm, to sit and weep; But keep our course, though the rough wind say, No.— filed under Resolution
Strike now, or else the iron cools,— filed under Resolution
To weep, is to make less the depth of grief; Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge for me.— filed under Revenge
Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine, Were not revenge sufficient for me; No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves, And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of York Is as a fury to torment my soul; And till I root out their accursed line, And leave not one alive, I live in hell.— filed under Revenge
ROSES (OF YORK AND LANCASTER). This brawl to-day, Grown to this faction, in the Temple Garden, Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night.— filed under Rogue
Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses That shall maintain what I have said is true: Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still, And know us by these colours for thy foes. H. VI. PT. 1. ii. 4 And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, . Will I for ever, and my faction, wear; Until it wither with me to the grave,— filed under Rogue
To be a queen in bondage, is more vile Than is a slave in base servility; For princes should be free.— filed under Royalty In Subjection
O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!— filed under Scorn
Shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless.— filed under Shame
Blood-drinking sighs. Blood-sucking sighs.— filed under Sigiis
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; The tiger will be mild while she doth mourn; And Nero will be tainted with remorse,— filed under Sigiis
Hear his speech, but say thou nought. With silence, nephew, be thou politic.— filed under Silence
He that is truly dedicate to war, hath no self-l ve.— filed under Soldier
A braver soldier never couched lance, A gentler heart did never sway in court. H. VI. PT. 1. iii. 2. I am a soldier; and unapt to weep, Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.— filed under Soldier
Impatience waiteth on true sorrow.— filed under Sorrow
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd Out of the powerful regions under earth,— filed under Spirits
Saint Dennis bless this happy. stratagem.— filed under Stratagem
Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That parchment being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some say, the bee stings: but I say, 'tis the bee's wax: for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since.— filed under Suretyship
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.— filed under Suspicion
Begin to water. See, see, what showers arise, Blown with the windy tempest of my heart.— filed under Tears
Unmanner'd dog! stand thou when I command Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Or, by St Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. R. III. i. 2 Priest, beware your beard; I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly: Shakesprarian Dictionary. Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat; In spite of pope or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.— filed under Threat
For your partaker, Poole, and you yourself, I'll note you in my book of memory, To scourge you for this apprehension. Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd.— filed under Threat
And he that throws not up his cap for joy, Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.— filed under Threat
Here's a silly stately style indeed! The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath, Writes not such a tedious style as this:- Him, that thou magnifiest with all those titles, Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet.— filed under Titles
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?— filed under Tragedian
A kissing traitor. To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master; And cried all hail! when as he meant-all harm.— filed under Traitor
O monstrous treachery! Can this be so; That in alliance, amity, and oaths, There should be found such false dissembling guile?— filed under Treachery
Applauding our approach. Sound, trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.— filed under Trumpet
Shakespearian Dirtinnary. His demand Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, But from deceit, bred by necessity; For how can tyrants safely govern home, Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?— filed under Tyrant
Methought he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a lion in a herd of neat: Or as a bear encompass'd round with dogs, Who, having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof and bark at him.— filed under Valour
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away?— filed under Valour
To whom God will, there be the victory.— filed under Victory
Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. victory— filed under Victory
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire.— filed under War
continued. Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly: He that is truly dedicate to war, Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself, Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour.— filed under War
They shall have wars, and pay for their presumption.— filed under War
To weep is to make less the depth of grief.— filed under Weeping
Or ere I'll weep. I cannot weep: for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart.— filed under Weeping
The ne'er touch'd vestal. These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.— filed under Woman
Who is't can read a woman ? She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd :— filed under Woman