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Shakespeare quotes on eye9 Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye, That thou consum'st thy self in single life? Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die, The world will wail thee like a makeless wife, The world will be thy widow and still weep, That thou no form of thee hast left Source: THE SONNETS So should the lines of life that life repair Which this (Time's pencil) or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live your self in eyes of men 20 A woman's face with nature's own hand painted, Hast thou the master mistress of my passion, A woman's gentle heart but not acquainted With shifting change as is false women's fashion, An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth, A man in hue all hues in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth O learn to read what silent love hath writ, To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes To side this title is impanelled A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, And by their verdict is determined The clear eye's moiety, and the dear heart's part Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight So till the judgment that your self arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes Thy outward thus with outward praise is crowned, But those same tongues that give thee so thine own, In other accents do this praise confound By seeing farther than the eye hath shown Ah yet doth beauty like a dial hand, Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived, So your sweet hue, Source: THE SONNETS For we which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise And truly not the morning sun of heaven Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, Nor that full star that ushers in the even Doth half that glory to the sober west As those two mourning eyes become thy face That I may not be so, nor thou belied, Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide 148 O me! what eyes hath love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight, Or if they have, where is my judgment fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote, Love's eye is not so true as all men's O cunning love, with tears thou keep'st me blind, Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find But found no cure, the bath for my help lies, Where Cupid got new fire; my mistress' eyes My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your Highness, In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes But, sir, forgive me; Since my becomings kill me when they do not Eye well to you Our courteous Antony, Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak, Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast, And for his ordinary pays his heart For what his eyes eat only Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish; A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air Look you sad, friends? The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings To wash the eyes of kings And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee Now counterfeit to swoon; why, now fall down; Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers The best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence, his eye did heal it up Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Stray'd his affection in unlawful love? A sin prevailing much in youthful men Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's And venomous to thine eyes Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse I dare be sworn you were! And, sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him I would have broke mine eyestrings, crack'd them but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; Nay, followed him till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn'd mine eye and wept I have seen him in France; we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he SONG Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flow'rs that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes Good news, gods! [Reads] 'Justice and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes Therefore I have entreated him along, With us to watch the minutes of this night, That, if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes and speak to it Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark O what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That, from her working, all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech; Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears That I am guiltless of your father's death, And am most sensibly in grief for it, It shall as level to your judgment pierce As day does to your eye For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen! For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes For well you know we of the off'ring side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence The eye of reason may pry in upon us My lord, I found the Prince in the next room, Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow, That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife With gentle eye-drops But, O, What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel, Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature? Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use- May it be possible that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange That, though the truth of it stands off as gross As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding- which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes I blame you not; For, hearing this, I must perforce compound With mistful eyes, or they will issue too If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning, that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail, One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace; The sun with one eye vieweth all the world And on my side it is so well apparell'd, So clear, so shining, and so evident, That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes Pardon me, gracious lord; Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart, And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further 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 Exeunt the DUCHESS and the other prisoners, guarded Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief But, soft! I think she comes, and I'll prepare My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries Victorious Prince of York, Before I see thee seated in that throne Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close How now, is he dead already? Or is it fear That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, Ye see, I drink the water of my eye he bites his lip and starts, Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then lays his finger on his temple; straight Springs out into fast gait; then stops again, Strikes his breast hard; and anon he casts His eye against the moon It's heaven's will; Some spirit put this paper in the packet To bless your eye withal At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the altar, where she kneel'd, and saintlike Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly Do you note How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden? How long her face is drawn! How pale she looks, And of an earthly cold! Mark her eyes Heralds, from off our tow'rs we might behold From first to last the onset and retire Of both your armies, whose equality By our best eyes cannot be censured I do protest I never lov'd myself Till now infixed I beheld myself Drawn in the flattering table of her eye No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threat'ning eye Ah, none but in this iron age would do it! The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears, And quench his fiery indignation Even in the matter of mine innocence; Nay, after that, consume away in rust But for containing fire to harm mine eye Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert; Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously; Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths; And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, Whilst he that hears makes fearful action With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad? Be great in act, as you have been in thought; Let not the world see fear and sad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; For I do see the cruel pangs of death Right in thine eye I have heard Where many of the best respect in Rome, Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus And groaning underneath this age's yoke, Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall 's dead, Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester Gloucester, I live To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the King, And to revenge thine eyes That to provoke in him Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain, As painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth; while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look 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 Then for the place Where? where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most prepost'rous event that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest Why, all his behaviours did make their retire To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire His face's own margent did quote such amazes That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part O, but her eye! By this light, but for her eye, I would not love her- yes, for her two eyes O, who can give an oath? Where is a book? That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, If that she learn not of her eye to look And, where that you you have vow'd to study, lords, In that each of you have forsworn his book, Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look? For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study's excellence Without the beauty of a woman's face? From women's eyes this doctrine I derive Soft, let us see- Write 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three; They are infected; in their hearts it lies; They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see God, God, forgive us all! Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her Yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligant terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart; and I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears; If so, my eyes are oft'ner wash'd than hers Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs, And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye 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 Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight These lily lips, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone; Lovers, make moan; His eyes were green as leeks He swore he would never marry; and yet now in despite of his heart he eats his meat without grudging; and how you may be converted I know not, but methinks you look with your eyes as other women do And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusive and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried thy eyes; and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle's Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, Your niece regards me with an eye of favour I would not there reside To put my father in impatient thoughts By being in his eye Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes and chose me Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure Nay, lay thee down and roar; For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent That e'er did lift up eye to drop them still upon one place Till they have fretted us a pair of graves Within the earth; and, therein laid-there lies Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse; Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his Grace with quick and merry eyes O ill-dispersing wind of misery! O my accursed womb, the bed of death! A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, Whose unavoided eye is murderous I will converse with iron-witted fools [Descends from the throne] And unrespective boys; none are for me That look into me with considerate eyes Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave 'Edward' and 'York.' Then haply will she weep; Therefore present to her-as sometimes Margaret Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood- A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain The purple sap from her sweet brother's body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal Exeunt all but RICHMOND O Thou, whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye; Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall The usurping helmets of our adversaries! Make us Thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise Thee in the victory! To Thee I do commend my watchful soul Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'I,' And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes And if the boy have not a woman's gift To rain a shower of commanded tears, An onion will do well for such a shift, Which, in a napkin being close convey'd, Shall in despite enforce a watery eye Tranio, be so because Lucentio loves; And let me be a slave t' achieve that maid Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye Alack, for pity! I, not rememb'ring how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again; it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to't Go make thyself like a nymph o' th' sea; be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible To every eyeball else We were dead of sleep, And-how, we know not-all clapp'd under hatches; Where, but even now, with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And moe diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awak'd; straightway at liberty; Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good, and gallant ship; our master Cap'ring to eye her We are born to do benefits; and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis to have so many like brothers commanding one another's fortunes! O, joy's e'en made away ere't can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks Th' Ear, Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd from thy table rise; They only now come but to feast thine eyes So the gods bless me, When all our offices have been oppress'd With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine, when every room Hath blaz'd with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy, I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock And set mine eyes at flow The gods are witness, Nev'r did poor steward wear a truer grief For his undone lord than mine eyes for you I am surprised with an uncouth fear; A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; My heart suspects more than mine eye can see Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes Good Lord, how like the Empress' sons they are! And you the Empress! But we worldly men Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes There is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it; he is melancholy without cause and merry against the hair; he hath the joints of every thing; but everything so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight O admirable man! Paris? Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die in the eyes of Troilus Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear, Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse, And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring The eye of majesty Exit DIOMEDES Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; But with my heart the other eye doth see What error leads must err; O, then conclude, Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude Be you his eunuch and your mute I'll be; When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see How now! Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Methinks I feel this youth's perfections With an invisible and subtle stealth To creep in at mine eyes If it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time; And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye This is the gentleman I told your ladyship Had come along with me but that his mistresss Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks Now, therefore, would I have thee to my tutor- For long agone I have forgot to court; Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd- How and which way I may bestow myself To be regarded in her sun-bright eye Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? Every wink of an eye some new grace will be born 'But woe is me! too early I attended A youthful suit- it was to gain my grace- O, one by nature's outwards so commended That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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