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Shakespeare quotes on swordWhen wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn Where are my other men, monsieur? Farewell! Exit HELENA Go thou toward home, Source: ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword Were't not that we stand up against them all, 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves; For they have entertained cause enough To draw their swords I did inquire it, And have my learning from some true reports That drew their swords with you That time? O times I laughed him out of patience; and that night I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn, Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed, Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst I wore his sword Philippan But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wip'd a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be; In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword, contemning I thank you, General, But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword His pupil age Man-ent'red thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurch'd all swords of the garland I Source: THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS if you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevail'd, I am no further your enemy- she is not worth our debate; if she remain unseduc'd, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and th' assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy But fear the sword, like me, he'll scarcely look on't The day Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for instead of thee, King Harry, This sword hath ended him Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt If the man were alive and would deny it, zounds! I would make him eat a piece of my sword My Lord of York, it better show'd with you When that your flock, assembled by the bell, Encircled you to hear with reverence Your exposition on the holy text Than now to see you here an iron man, Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, Turning the word to sword, and life to death Now, lords, if God doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields, And draw no swords but what are sanctified It is a simple one; but what though? It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof- Fathers that like so many Alexanders Have in these parts from morn till even fought, And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument Up, Princes, and, with spirit of honour edged More sharper than your swords, hie to the field Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy! Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms Of France and England, whose very shores look pale With envy of each other's happiness, May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France More than three hours the fight continued; Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, Enacted wonders with his sword and lance How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off! Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy! In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame; Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars; Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up, His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field Stoop then and set your knee against my foot; And in reguerdon of that duty done I girt thee with the valiant sword of York Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord! When I was young, as yet I am not old, I do remember how my father said A stouter champion never handled sword The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word And left us to the rage of France his sword For grief that they are past recovery; For were there hope to conquer them again My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword [Putting on SIR HUMPHREY'S brigandine] This monument of the victory will I bear, and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come to London, where we will have the mayor's sword borne before us Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the King by carrying my head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich and swallow my sword like a great pin ere thou and I part As for words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears Exit attendant I know, ere thy will have me go to ward, They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement While we pursu'd the horsemen of the north, He slily stole away and left his men; Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheer'd up the drooping army, and himself, Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast, Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain Will you we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York; And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold Enter two VERGERS, with short silver wands; next them, two SCRIBES, in the habit of doctors; after them, the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH; next them, with some small distance, follows a GENTLEMAN bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a Cardinal's hat; then two PRIESTS, bearing each silver cross; then a GENTLEMAN USHER bareheaded, accompanied with a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS bearing a silver mace; then two GENTLEMEN bearing two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, the two CARDINALS, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS; two NOBLEMEN with the sword and mace By my soul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel My sword i' the life-blood of thee else Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours Look, I draw a sword against conspirators; When think you that the sword goes up again? Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds Be well avenged, or till another Caesar Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors here, take thou the hilts; And when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now, Guide thou the sword [Pindarus stabs him.] Caesar, thou art revenged, Even with the sword that kill'd thee Good Volumnius, Thou know'st that we two went to school together; Even for that our love of old, I prithee, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it I will not fight with a pole, like a Northern man; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings Once more, the more to aggravate the note, With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; And wish-so please my sovereign-ere I move, What my tongue speaks, my right drawn sword may prove No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords I say thou liest, And will maintain what thou hast said is false In thy heart-blood, through being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword [To RICHARD] Let me sit heavy in thy soul to-morrow! I that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword Then, in the name of God and all these rights, Advance your standards, draw your willing swords Be as a planetary plague, when Jove Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison In the sick air; let not thy sword skip one What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile Than hew to't with thy sword Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms; And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece To him that flourish'd for her with his sword That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm; Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill My sword should bite it Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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