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Shakespeare Quotes from The Tempest

82 passages from Dictionary of Shakespearian Quotations (1892), each filed under the passion it answers.

Fie, what a spendthrift he is of his tongue !— filed under Babbler

Abhorred slave; Which any print of goodness will not take Being capable of all ill.— filed under Badness

Some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters Point to rich ends.— filed under Baseness

And leave the world no copy.— filed under Beauty

Hag-seed, hence!— filed under Begone

Where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike.— filed under Bewailings

What care these roarers for the name of king?— filed under Billows

I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the Take the ear strangely.— filed under Biography

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich lees Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease; Thy turfy mountains where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims, Which spungy April at thy hest betrims, To make cold nymphs, chaste crowns; and dark broom groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile, and rocky hard, Where thou thyself dost air: The queen o' sky, Whose watery arch, and messenger, am I, Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, Here, on this grass-plot, in this very place,— filed under Ceres, Invocation To

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Then I beat my tabor, At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears, Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses, As they smelt music; so I charm'd their ears, That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd through goss, and Tooth'd briars, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns, thorns, Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them— filed under Charm

Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass, Therefore my son i' th' ooze is bedded.— filed under Conscience, Guilty

If it were a kybe, 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they, And melt, ere they molest.— filed under Conscience, Guilty

While you here do snoring lie Open-ey'd conspiracy His time doth take: If of life you keep a care Shake off slumber, and beware: Awake! Awake!— filed under Conspiracy

Make head against my estimation. A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this; They think, my little stomach to the war, And your great love to me, restrains you thus: Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air.— filed under Dalliance, Unseasonable

You fools! I and my fellows Are ministers of fate; the elements Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume.— filed under Defiance

Even here I will put off my hope, and keep it— filed under Despondency

devil, and we shall know him by his horns. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all, all, quite lost; And as, with age, his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers.— filed under Devil

A howling monster: a drunken monster.— filed under Drunkard

They were red hot with drinking; So full of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces; beat the ground For kissing of their feet.— filed under Drunkard

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves; And ye, that on the sands with printless foot Do chace the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms; that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid (Weak masters though you be) I have be-dimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt: the strong bas'd promontory Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd us The pine and cedar: graves at my command, Have wak'd their sleepers; ope'd and let them forth By my so potent art: but this rough magic I here abjure: and, when I have requir'd Some heav'nly music (which even now I do) To work mine end upon their senses, that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound,— filed under Elves

The top of admiration; worth What's dearest to the world.— filed under Excellence

But you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created— filed under Excellence

I perceive, these lords, At this encounter, do so much admire, That they devour their reason; and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath.— filed under Eye

Se suck In a cowslip's bell I lie: There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer merrily: Merrily, merrily shall I live now,— filed under Fairies

To tread the ooze of the salt deep; To run upon the sharp wind of the north; To do me business in the veins o' the earth, When it is bak'd with frost.— filed under Fairies

'Tis far off; And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants.— filed under Forgetfulness

And but he's something stain'd With grief, that's beauty's canker, thou might'st call him A goodly person.— filed under Grief

are well cook'd. I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath is perfect no drowning mark upon him ; his complexion is perfect advangallows. Stand fast, good fate, to his hanging! make the miserable rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little . tage! If he be not born to be hang'd, our case is— filed under Hanging

O, out of that no hope, What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is Another way so high an hope, that even— filed under Hope

And like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.— filed under Illusion

Here's a maze trod, indeed, Through forth-rights, and meanders!— filed under Labyrinth

Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou.— filed under Letter

Like one, Who having, unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.— filed under Liar

Dove-drawn Venus.— filed under Love

All the charms— filed under Malediction

As wicked dew, as e'er my mother brush'd, With raven's feather, from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both: a south-west blow on ye,— filed under Malediction

You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you For learning me your language.— filed under Malediction

All the infections that the sun sucks up, From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease!— filed under Malediction

That makes these odds all even. Foolish wench! To the most of men this is a Caliban,— filed under Man

Pr'ythee, say on; The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield.— filed under Messenger

By this good light this is a very shallow monster: I afeard of him?-a very weak monster: The man in the moon?-a most poor credulous monster: -well drawn monster, in good sooth.— filed under Monster

I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed mon-— filed under Monster

Were I in England now, (as once I was,) and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give & piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.— filed under Monster

Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sitting on a bank, Weeping against the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury and my passion,— filed under Music

I do beseech you, (Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) What is your name?— filed under Name

No more yet of this; For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast, nor Befitting this first meeting— filed under Narration, Long

Look thou be true; do not give dalliance Too much the rein; the strongest oaths are straw To the fire i' the blood; be more abstemious, Or else good night your vow.— filed under Oaths

The dark backward and abysm of Time.— filed under Oblivion

I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star; whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes— filed under Opinion

All the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows.— filed under Passion

Shakespeartan Dictionary. I have her sovereign aid, And rest myself content.— filed under Patience

Look, he is winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.— filed under Pausing

Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolv'd to effect.— filed under Perseverance

Do not smile at me, that I boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise,— filed under Praise

Jove's lightnings, the precursors O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-out-running were not.— filed under Quickness

Lost in the labyrinth of thy fury. He's in his fit now, and does not talk after the wisest.— filed under Rage

No kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known: riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none.— filed under Rebellion

My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, And time to speak it in: you rob the sore, When you should bring the plaster.— filed under Reproof

O 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear; To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar— filed under Roar

There be, that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate As amply and unnecessarily, As this Gonzalo.— filed under Rulers

Our hint of woe Is common: every day, some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe.— filed under Sea

The king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring, (then like reeds, not hair,) Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty, And all the devils are here. T.LO Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation. "— filed under Shipwrecks

Cooling the air with sighs.— filed under Sigiis

Please you, Sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter.— filed under Sleep

What have we here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very antient and fish-like smell.— filed under Smell

Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores.— filed under Snoring

Pardon, master: I will be correspondent to command,— filed under Spirits

I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the— filed under Swearing

I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, As stooping to relieve him; I not doubt, He came alive to land.— filed under Swimming

Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, Fall fellowly drops.— filed under Sympathy

With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel (Which had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her) Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls! they perish'd.— filed under Sympathy

The fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake.— filed under Tempest

If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps: Fill all thy bones with achés, make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din.— filed under Threat

If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak, And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.— filed under Threat

What's past is prologue.— filed under Time

For all the rest, They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour.— filed under Tool

Travellers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn them.— filed under Travelling

I told you, Sir, they were red hot with drinking; So full of valour, that they smote the air For breathing in their faces; beat the ground For kissing of their feet.— filed under Valour

We are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life— filed under Vanity

Mine enemies are all knit up In their distractions.— filed under Victory

And the remainder mourning over them, Brim full of sorrow, and dismay; but chiefly, Him you term'd, Sir, the good old lord Gonzalo; His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops From eaves of reeds.— filed under Weeping

These are not natural events; they strengthen, From strange to stranger.— filed under Wonder