Home › By Play › Two Gentlemen of Verona
Shakespeare Quotes from Two Gentlemen of Verona
O weary reckoning! O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; Lest growing ruinous the building fall,— filed under Absence
Thou shalt never get such a secret from me, but by a— filed under Circumlocution
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.— filed under Courtship
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For, get you gone, she doth not mean, away. Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.— filed under Courtship
Say, that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears Moist it again, and frame some feeling line, That may discover such integrity.— filed under Courtship
What! I that kill'd her husband, and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate: With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of my hatred by; With God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, -all the world to nothing! R. III i. 2 After your dire lamenting elegies, Visit by night your lady's chamber window, With some sweet concert; to their instruments Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead silence Will well become such sweet complaining grievance.— filed under Courtship
And therein you are senseless. Never give her o'er; For scorn at first, makes after-love the more. If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more love in you; If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone;— filed under Courtship
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, Could penetrate her uncompassionate siro.— filed under Cruelty
O'tis a foul thing, when a cur cannot keep himself in all companies! I would have, as one should say, one that taketh upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, as it were, a dog at all things.— filed under Curs
When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up a puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it! I have taught him-even as one would say precisely, -Thus I would teach a dog.— filed under Curs
To die, is to be banish'd from myself.— filed under Death
A true devoted pilgrim is not weary— filed under Devotion
Experience is by industry achiev'd,— filed under Experience
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth.— filed under Fidelity
Gifts then seem Most precious, when the giver we esteem. Poems Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, More quick than words, do move a woman's mind.— filed under Gifts
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts.— filed under Hope
O heaven! were man But constant, he were perfect; that one error Fills him with faults.— filed under Inconstancy
The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns; The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage But when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with th' enamel'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage; And so, by many winding nooks, he strays,— filed under Love
As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Ev'n so by love the young and tender wit Is turn'd to folly; blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.— filed under Love
O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by-and-by a cloud takes all away.— filed under Love
As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.— filed under Love
In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state, Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. M. W. v. 5. I have done penance for contemning love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs, For in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.— filed under Love
Why, man, she is mine own; And I as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl, The water, nectar, and the rocks pure gold.— filed under Love
Fie, Fie! how wayward is this foolish love, That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod!— filed under Love
His love was an eternal plant; Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun. H. VI. PT. fit, fli. 3 First you have learn'd like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms, like a malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a robinred-breast; to walk alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had lost his ABC; to weep, like a young wench that had buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.— filed under Love
Ay, but hearken, Sir; though the cameleon love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat.— filed under Love
For now my love is thaw'd; Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, Bears no impression of the thing it was.— filed under Love
She makes it strange; but she would be best pleas'd To be so anger'd with another letter.— filed under Love
Let no such man be trusted. For Orpheus' lute was stung with poets' sinews, Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones; Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands.— filed under Music
Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear good news, So much of bad already hath possess'd them.— filed under News
And to the nightingale's complaining notes, Tune my distresses, and record my woes.— filed under Vight
Here is my hand for my true constancy; And when that hour o'er-slips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, The next ensuing hour some foul mischance— filed under Parting
What! gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; For truth had better deeds than words, to grace it.— filed under Farting
His perishing root, with the increasing vine. Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, And study help from that which thou lament'st. Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.— filed under Patience
The force of heaven-bred poesy.— filed under Poetry, Poet
O thou senseless form, Thou shalt be worsnipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and ador'd....— filed under Portrait
Who by repentance is not satisfied Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleas'd; By penitence th' Eternal's wrath's appeas'd.— filed under Repentance
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. Forgive me, Valentine; if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient ransom for offence, I tender it here: I do as truly suffer, As e'er I did commit.— filed under Repentance
Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed, For what I will, I will, and there an end.— filed under Resolution
I could drive the boat with my sighs.— filed under Sigiis
Heart-sore sighs.— filed under Sigiis
How use doth breed a habit in a man ! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns: Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And, to the nightingale's complaining notes, Tune my distresses, and record my woes.— filed under Solitude
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; With them, upon her knees, her humble self, Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe.— filed under Supplication
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.— filed under Tears
- The tide! Why, man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs.— filed under Tears
Master, be one of them; It is an honourable kind of thievery.— filed under Thief
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits Wer't not affection chains thy tender days To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, I rather would entreat thy company, To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardis'd at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.— filed under Travelling
He did request me to importune you, . To let him spend his time no more at home, Which would be great impeachment to his age, In having known no travel in his youth.— filed under Travelling
Myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time, To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection. T.G. ii.— filed under Truant
Is rounded with a sleep. To worship shadows and adore false shapes.— filed under Vanity
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken.— filed under Vows
She is mine own; And I as rich in having such a jewel, As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.— filed under Wife
He wants wis that wants resolved will.— filed under Wit
A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off.— filed under Words
You have an exchequer of words, and, I think, no other treasure to give your followers; for it appears by their bare liveries, that they live by your bare words.— filed under Words