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Shakespeare quotes on light8 Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy In our two loves there is but one respect, Though in our lives a separable spite, Which though it alter not love's Source: THE SONNETS Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight Thy love is better than high birth to me, Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' costs, Of more delight than hawks and horses be Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose, They were but sweet, but figures of delight Not that the summer is less pleasant now Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, But that wild music burthens every bough, And sweets grown common lose their dear delight Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth That he does weigh too light Say this becomes him- As his composure must be rare indeed Whom these things cannot blemish- yet must Antony No way excuse his foils when we do bear So great weight in his lightness Bid that welcome Which comes to punish us, and we punish it, Seeming to bear it lightly Let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together; Devise the fittest time and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight But come thy ways, we'll go along together, And ere we have thy youthful wages spent We'll light upon some settled low content O, had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily term'd them merciless to us! For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, We were encount'red by a mighty rock, Which being violently borne upon, Source: THE COMEDY OF ERRORS A trusty villain, sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholy, Lightens my humour with his merry jests Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease; and I know not what use to put her to but to make a lamp of her and run from her by her own light Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam, and here she comes in the habit of a light wench; and thereof comes that the wenches say 'God damn me!' That's as much to say 'God make me a light wench!' It is written they appear to men like angels of light; light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; ergo, light wenches will burn It seems his sleeps were hind'red by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light What may be sworn by, both divine and human, Seal what I end withal! This double worship, Where one part does disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason; where gentry, title, wisdom, Cannot conclude but by the yea and no Of general ignorance- it must omit Real necessities, and give way the while To unstable slightness I neither care for th' world nor your general; for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight What's this? Your knees to me, to your corrected son? Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun, Murd'ring impossibility, to make What cannot be slight work I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature I was then a young traveller; rather shunn'd to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences; but upon my mended judgment- if I offend not to say it is mended- my quarrel was not altogether slight You may wear her in title yours; but you know strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds That done, he lets me go, And with his head over his shoulder turn'd He seem'd to find his way without his eyes, For out o' doors he went without their help And to the last bended their light on me See what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter God pardon thee! Yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing, Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors Well, he may sleep in security; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it; and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly; and certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their scoffs Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves But, O malignant and ill-boding stars! Now thou art come unto a feast of death, A terrible and unavoided danger; Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape By sudden flight And I again, in Henry's royal name, As deputy unto that gracious king, Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith Descend to darkness and the burning lake; False fiend, avoid! Thunder and lightning Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey Short tale to make- we at Saint Albans met, Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought; But whether 'twas the coldness of the King, Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen, Or whether 'twas report of her success, Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Who thunders to his captives blood and death, I cannot judge; but, to conclude with truth, Their weapons like to lightning came and went Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light Why, am I dead? Do I not breathe a man? Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! 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 Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; Our people and our peers are both misled, Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight Bethink you, father; for the difference Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome Or the light loss of England for a friend And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout That Tiber trembled underneath her banks To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of the Sardians, Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were slighted off O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile; So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes Study me how to please the eye indeed, By fixing it upon a fairer eye; Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed, And give him light that it was blinded by [Reads] 'So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows; Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright Through the transparent bosom of the deep, As doth thy face through tears of mine give light What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now? My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; She, an attending star, scarce seen a light But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come,sisters, cheer we up his sprites, And show the best of our delights The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light What! must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light I pray thee, let us go and find him out, And quicken his embraced heaviness With some delight or other Pinch him, fairies, mutually; Pinch him for his villainy; Pinch him and burn him and turn him about, Till candles and star-light and moonshine be out But there is two hard things- that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh; and both as light as tales Lysander's love, that would not let him bide- Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her, For I'll refer me to all things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunn'd The wealthy, curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou- to fear, not to delight If she confess that she was half the wooer, Destruction on my head, if my bad blame Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress He that stirs next to carve for his own rage Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion I know, Iago, Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume Suppose the singing birds musicians, The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delightful measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word nor princely favour; With Cain go wander thorough shades of night, And never show thy head by day nor light Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind; Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light A lover may bestride the gossamer That idles in the wanton summer air, And yet not fall; so light is vanity It is some meteor that the sun exhales To be to thee this night a torchbearer And light thee on the way to Mantua Some say the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes; O, now I would they had chang'd voices too, Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day! O, now be gone! More light and light it grows A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth, For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes This vault a feasting presence full of light [Lays him in the tomb.] How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death [Aside] They are both in either's pow'rs; but this swift busines I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are that no bed-rite shall be paid Till Hymen's torch be lighted; but in vain True; When the day serves, before black-corner'd night, Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light Now the time is flush, When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong, Cries of itself 'No more!' Now breathless wrong Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease, And pursy insolence shall break his wind With fear and horrid flight Look how the black slave smiles upon the father, As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.' He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed Of that self-blood that first gave life to you; And from your womb where you imprisoned were He is enfranchised and come to light She that would alter services with thee, THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.' Daylight and champain discovers not more The more degenerate and base art thou To make such means for her as thou hast done And leave her on such slight conditions Ha' not you seen, Camillo- But that's past doubt; you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn- or heard- For to a vision so apparent rumour Cannot be mute- or thought- for cogitation Resides not in that man that does not think- My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess- Or else be impudently negative, To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought- then say My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name As rank as any flax-wench that puts to Before her troth-plight Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness My women may be with me, for you see My plight requires it This your son-in-law, And son unto the King, whom heavens directing, Is troth-plight to your daughter Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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