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Shakespeare quotes on stormRarely, rarely! He that unbuckles this, till we do please To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health; the which, if you give Source: SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV Yet to have join'd with France in such alliance Would more have strength'ned this our commonwealth 'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany, Till storms be past of civil enmity A little gale will soon disperse that cloud And blow it to the source from whence it came; Thy very beams will dry those vapours up, For every cloud engenders not a storm The hearts of princes kiss obedience, So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits They swell and grow as terrible as storms Enter a MESSENGER A fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? So foul a sky clears not without a storm Why, now, blow and, swell billow, and swim bark! The storm is up, and all is on the hazard That sir which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack when it begins to rain And leave thee in the storm There could I have him now- and there- and there again- and there! Storm still I had rather be a country servant-maid Than a great queen with this condition- To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth Before the days of change, still is it so; By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust Ensuing danger; as by proof we see The water swell before a boist'rous storm Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm Why, so, brave lords! When we join in league I am a lamb; but if you brave the Moor, The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me, and I hang the head As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms From off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sist'ring vale, My spirits t'attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale, Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings atwain, Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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