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Parasites: Quotations from Shakespearian Quotations

That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain,— K. L. ii. 4

And leave thee in the storm. O, you gods! what a number Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not! It grieves me, to see so many dip their meat In one man's blood; and all the madness is,— T.A i. 2

He cheers them up too. 'Tis such as you, That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh At each his needless heavings, such as you Nourish the cause of his awakings: I Do come with words as med'cinal as true, Honest, as either; to purge him of that humour That presses him from sleep. It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves, that take their humour for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life; And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law: to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns More upon honour than advis'd respect.— K. J. iv. 2

Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers; These flies are couch'd.— T.A. ii. 2.

To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me But whatso'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.— H. VIII. v. 2.

O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption ! Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart!— R. II. iii. 2

When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found them, there I smelt them out. Ge to, they are not men o' their words: they told me I was every thing;-'tis a lie ; I'm not ague-proof. K.L. iv.— K. L. iv. 6.

May you a better feast never behold, You knot of mouth-friends! Smoke and luke-warm water Is your perfection. This is Timon's last; Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries, Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces Your reeking villainy. Live loath'd, and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meak bears, You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time's flies, Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks! Of man, and beast, the infinite malady Crust you quite o'er'— T.A. ii. 6