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Shakespeare quotes on heaven14 Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good, or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality, Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell; Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, Source: THE SONNETS If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say this poet lies, Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces With April's first-born flowers and all things rare, That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems O let me true in love but truly write, And then believe me, my love is as fair, As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air I tell the day to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven 33 Full many a glorious morning have I seen, Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green; Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy Yet him for this, my love no whit disdaineth, Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth 70 That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair, The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air All this the world well knows yet none knows well, To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell 'I hate' she altered with an end, That followed it as gentle day, Doth follow night who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away no, How can it? O how can love's eye be true, That is so vexed with watching and with tears? No marvel then though I mistake my view, The sun it self sees not, till heaven clears It is not so with Source: ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven No going then! Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows' bent, none our parts so poor But was a race of heaven If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss Which is my heaven to have Some, how brief the life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage, That the streching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; Some, of violated vows 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend; But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence end, Will I Rosalinda write, Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite Heaven would in little show No; It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart, My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim The flame o' th' taper Bows toward her and would under-peep her lids To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows white and azure, lac'd With blue of heaven's own tinct Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here A headless man? The garments of Posthumus? I know the shape of's leg; this is his hand, His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh, The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial face- Murder in heaven! How! 'Tis gone The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven A villain kills my father; and for that, I, his sole son, do this same villain send To heaven 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 Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur, For by that name as oft as Lancaster Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven 'Phrase' call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, Combat with adverse planets in the heavens Come, side by side together live and die; And soul with soul from France to heaven fly No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been A virgin from her tender infancy, Chaste and immaculate in very thought; Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd, Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven 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 Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; And when thou fail'st- as God forbid the hour!- Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend You few that lov'd me And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go with me like good angels to my end; And as the long divorce of steel falls on me Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven Commend me to his Grace; And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him You met him half in heaven Would I had never trod this English earth, Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts 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 'O father Abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity!' So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness Pursu'd him still And three nights after this, About the hour of eight-which he himself Foretold should be his last-full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace Then the two that held the garland deliver the same to the other next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head; which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order; at which, as it were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter- The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!- Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding- She is young, and of a noble modest nature; I hope she will deserve well-and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, Heaven knows how dearly Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish, And like a mountain cedar reach his branches To all the plains about him; our children's children Shall see this and bless heaven Your strong possession much more than your right, Or else it must go wrong with you and me; So much my conscience whispers in your ear, Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear Most certain of one mother, mighty king- That is well known- and, as I think, one father; But for the certain knowledge of that truth I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother An if thou hast the mettle of a king, Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish town, Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls; And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, Why then defy each other, and pell-mell Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell So well that what you bid me undertake, Though that my death were adjunct to my act, By heaven, I would do it Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours I'll to the King; A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land You look pale and gaze And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder To see the strange impatience of the heavens When beggars die, there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them And show the heavens more just Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the school of night; And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure As the unsullied lily, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yield to be your house's guest; So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heavenly oaths, vowed with integrity [Knocking within.] Knock, knock! Who's there, in th' other devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator that could swear in both the scales against either scale, who committed treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offence by weight The words of heaven This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot; Forbear it, therefore; give your cause to heaven This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for; A thing not in his power to bring to pass, But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven Talk not of Master Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven It is very meet The Lord Bassanio live an upright life, For, having such a blessing in his lady, He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; And if on earth he do not merit it, In reason he should never come to heaven No, I know Anne's mind for that; never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more than I do with her, I thank heaven In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by the way; I praise heaven for it My Will! 'Od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank heaven; I am not such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise Good hearts, what ado here is to bring you together! Sure, one of you does not serve heaven well, that you are so cross'd No; but to the gate, and there will the devil meet me like an old cuckold with horns on his head, and say 'Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to heaven Here's no place for you maids.' So deliver I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter--for the heavens They that mean virtuously and yet do so, The devil their virtue tempts and they tempt heaven Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Am I; who ready here do stand in arms To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me Methinks King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven Must I do so? And must I ravel out My weav'd-up follies? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offences were upon record, Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, There shouldst thou find one heinous article, Containing the deposing of a king And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven Simple, plain Clarence, I do love thee so That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands Exit HASTINGS He cannot live, I hope, and must not die Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward- But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven March on, join bravely, let us to it pell-mell; If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads O God!- O nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven Your part in her you could not keep from death, But heaven keeps his part in eternal life I think she means that there were more than one Confederate in the fact; ay, more there was, Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge Why, there it goes! God give his lordship joy! Enter the CLOWN, with a basket and two pigeons in it News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress Base men that use them to so base effect! But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth; His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, But think upon my grief, a lady's grief, And on the justice of my flying hence To keep me from a most unholy match, Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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