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Shakespeare quotes on age7 Lo in the orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head, each under eye Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Serving with looks his sacred majesty, And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle Source: THE SONNETS O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought, 'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought To march in ranks of better equipage 'Tis thee (my self) that for my self I praise, Painting my age with beauty of thy days 64 When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced The rich-proud cost of outworn buried age, When sometime lofty towers I see down-rased, And brass eternal slave to mortal rage And I by this will be a gainer too, For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to my self I do, Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, And the sad augurs mock their own presage, Incertainties now crown themselves assured, And peace proclaims olives of endless age But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love, loves not to have years told He hath abandon'd his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage I would it were hell pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal; for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave The main consents are had; and here we'll stay To see our Source: ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL As I am Egypt's Queen, Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine Is Caesar's homager Look, prithee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe When thou once Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against, Though daintily brought up, with patience more Than savages could suffer He is already Traduc'd for levity; and 'tis said in Rome That Photinus an eunuch and your maids Manage this war DUKE, living in exile FREDERICK, his brother, and usurper of his dominions AMIENS, lord attending on the banished Duke JAQUES, " " " " " " LE BEAU, a courtier attending upon Frederick CHARLES, wrestler to Frederick OLIVER, son of Sir Rowland de Boys JAQUES, " " " " " " ORLANDO, " " " " " " ADAM, servant to Oliver DENNIS, " " " TOUCHSTONE, the court jester SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a vicar CORIN, shepherd SILVIUS, " WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with Audrey A person representing HYMEN ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke CELIA, daughter to Frederick PHEBE, a shepherdes AUDREY, a country wench Lords, Pages, Foresters, and Attendants I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, Which I did store to be my foster-nurse, When service should in my old limbs lie lame, And unregarded age in corners thrown I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat; therefore, courage, good Aliena All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first; 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size Leander, he would have liv'd many a fair year, though Hero had turn'd nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, was drown'd; and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was- Hero of Sestos abandon the society of this female; or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage There was never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother and my sister no sooner met but they look'd; no sooner look'd but they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking, or spitting, or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice? SECOND PAGE I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to forswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of without he say 'Sir-reverence.' I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I have not much importun'd you; Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, And much different from the man he was; But till this afternoon his passion Ne'er brake into extremity of rage May it please your Grace, Antipholus, my husband, Who I made lord of me and all I had At your important letters-this ill day A most outrageous fit of madness took him, That desp'rately he hurried through the street, With him his bondman all as mad as he, Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, anything his rage did like Go you to th' city; Learn how 'tis held, and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome I do beseech you Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them For my wounds' sake to give their suffrage If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusal, both observe and answer The vantage of his anger Pray be counsell'd; I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage He'll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by th' ears; he will mow all down before him, and leave his passage poll'd Cannot be! We have record that very well it can; And three examples of the like hath been Within my age 'The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wip'd it out, Destroy'd his country, and his name remains To th' ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing- Always reserv'd my holy duty- what His rage can do on me [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, She is alone th' Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager The cloyed will- That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both fill'd and running- ravening first the lamb, Longs after for the garbage 'Tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form, their values great; And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this, and praise Be given to your remembrance; the description Of what is in her chamber nothing saves The wager you have laid A kind of conquest Caesar made here; but made not here his brag Of 'came, and saw, and overcame.' With shame- The first that ever touch'd him- he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping- Poor ignorant baubles!- on our terrible seas, Like egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks; for joy whereof The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point- O, giglot fortune!- to master Caesar's sword, Made Lud's Town with rejoicing fires bright And Britons strut with courage Haply this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you That have a sharper known; well corresponding With your stiff age Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage We make a choir, as doth the prison'd bird, And sing our bondage freely Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, For food and diet, to some enterprise That hath a stomach in't; which is no other, As it doth well appear unto our state, But to recover of us, by strong hand And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands So by his father lost; and this, I take it, Is the main motive of our preparations, The source of this our watch, and the chief head Of this post-haste and romage in the land Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there, From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine! But virtue, as it never will be mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, Will sate itself in a celestial bed And prey on garbage Aha boy, say'st thou so? Art thou there, truepenny? Come on! You hear this fellow in the cellarage I'll warrant she'll tax him home; And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear The speech, of vantage We'll put on those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together And wager on your heads But, my lord, his Majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article, and his infusion of such dearth and rareness as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror, and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more But on! Six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages I have some rights of memory in this kingdom Which now, to claim my vantage doth invite me Therefore, friends, As far as to the sepulchre of Christ- Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross We are impressed and engag'd to fight- Forthwith a power of English shall we levy, Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our advantage on the bitter cross O monstrous! but one halfpennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage An if it do, take it for thy labour; an if it make twenty, take them all; I'll answer the coinage To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly given to understand, The King with mighty and quick-raised power Meets with Lord Harry; and I fear, Sir Michael, What with the sickness of Northumberland, Whose power was in the first proportion, And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, Who with them was a rated sinew too And comes not in, overrul'd by prophecies- I fear the power of Percy is too weak To wage an instant trial with the King By my hopes, This present enterprise set off his head, I do not think a braver gentleman, More active-valiant or more valiant-young, More daring or more bold, is now alive To grace this latter age with noble deeds Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you be blushing? Wherefore blush you now? What a maidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is't such a matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead? PAGE Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk It illumineth the face, which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puff'd up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage- and this valour comes of sherris So, like gross terms, The Prince will, in the perfectness of time, Cast off his followers; and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live By which his Grace must mete the lives of other, Turning past evils to advantages Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb, From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince, Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, Making defeat on the fun power of France, Whiles his most mighty father on a hill Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp Forage in blood of French nobility We must not only arm t' invade the French, But lay down our proportions to defend Against the Scot, who will make road upon us With all advantages The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintain'd the pridge; the French is gone off, look you, and there is gallant and most prave passages It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger; The greater therefore should our courage be some peradventure have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery And but for ceremony, such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king The slave, a member of the country's peace, Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace Whose hours the peasant best advantages No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate, but in loving me you should love the friend of France; for I love France so well that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine Your Majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de most sage damoiselle dat is en France Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage And now there rests no other shift but this To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd, And lay new platforms to endamage them The Temple garden Enter the EARLS OF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another LAWYER PLANTAGENET I love no colours; and, without all colour Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses, That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd? PLANTAGENET And so, farewell; and fair be all thy hopes, And prosperous be thy life in peace and war! [Dies] PLANTAGENET Exeunt GAOLERS, hearing out the body of MORTIMER Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort; And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house, I doubt not but with honour to redress; And therefore haste I to the Parliament, Either to be restored to my blood, Or make my ill th' advantage of my good Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others State holy or unhallow'd, what of that? Is not his Grace Protector to the King? PLANTAGENET Come, my lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sickness and for crazy age But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees This jarring discord of nobility, This shouldering of each other in the court, This factious bandying of their favourites, But that it doth presage some ill event And leave my followers here to fight and die? My age was never tainted with such shame The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word And left us to the rage of France his sword O, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our lives in one small boat! If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage, To-morrow I shall die with mickle age Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect And surer bind this knot of amity, The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles, A man of great authority in France, Proffers his only daughter to your Grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry I never read but England's kings have had Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives; And our King Henry gives away his own To match with her that brings no vantages Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks And smooth my way upon their headless necks; And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in Fortune's pageant My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise, Is this the fashions in the court of England? Is this the government of Britain's isle, And this the royalty of Albion's king? What, shall King Henry be a pupil still, Under the surly Gloucester's governance? Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made a subject to a duke? I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France, I thought King Henry had resembled thee In courage, courtship, and proportion; But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave-Maries on his beads; His champions are the prophets and apostles; His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ; His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves Are brazen images of canonized saints Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground! I beseech your Majesty give me leave to go; Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease But mine is made the prologue to their play; For thousands more that yet suspect no peril Will not conclude their plotted tragedy Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy [Aside] Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable, and there was he born, under a hedge, for his father had never a house but the cage The elder of them being put to nurse, Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away, And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, Became a bricklayer when he came to age His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless; Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death Hath given them heart and courage to proceed In any case be not too rough in terms, For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son! What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? If it be banish'd from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war And shame thine honourable age with blood? Why art thou old, and want'st experience? Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? For shame! In duty bend thy knee to me, That bows unto the grave with mickle age In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter Bid'st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish; Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will; For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays, the rain begins My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; And we, in pity of the gentle King, Had slipp'd our claim until another age O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee, Thou setter-up and plucker-down of kings, Beseeching Thee, if with Thy will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope And give sweet passage to my sinful soul First will I see the coronation; And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea To effect this marriage, so it please my lord From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, First to do greetings to thy royal person, And then to crave a league of amity, And lastly to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, To England's King in lawful marriage [To BONA] And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf, I am commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; Where fame, late ent'ring at his heedful ears, Hath plac'd thy beauty's image and thy virtue that King Lewis Becomes your enemy for mocking him About the marriage of the Lady Bona 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 Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee, Call Edward King, and at his hands beg mercy? And he shall pardon thee these outrages Let the King know, As soon he shall by me, that thus the Cardinal Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, And for his own advantage We had need pray, and heartily, for our deliverance; Or this imperious man will work us an From princes into pages It is not to be question'd That they had gather'd a wise council to them Of every realm, that did debate this business, Who deem'd our marriage lawful But will you be more justified? You ever Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desir'd It to be stirr'd; but oft have hind'red, oft, The passages made toward it For goodness' sake, consider what you do; How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly Grow from the King's acquaintance, by this carriage O, fear him not! His spell in that is out; the King hath found Matter against him that for ever mars The honey of his language The citizens, I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds- As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward- In celebration of this day with shows, Pageants, and sights of honour The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and footboys Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle, But stop their mouth with stubborn bits and spur 'em Till they obey the manage Well then, to work! Our cannon shall be bent Against the brows of this resisting town; Call for our chiefest men of discipline, To cull the plots of best advantages By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavour for defence, For courage mounteth with occasion But on the sight of us your lawful king, Who painfully with much expedient march Have brought a countercheck before your gates, To save unscratch'd your city's threat'ned cheeks- Behold, the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle; And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, To make a shaking fever in your walls, They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke, To make a faithless error in your cars; Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, And let us in-your King, whose labour'd spirits, Forwearied in this action of swift speed, Craves harbourage within your city walls Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, Let in that amity which you have made; For at Saint Mary's chapel presently The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd Brother of England, how may we content This widow lady? In her right we came; Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way, To our own vantage And if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; The Dauphin rages at our very heels And leave us, Publius, lest that the people Rushing on us should do your age some mischief Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die; No place will please me so, no means of death, As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, The choice and master spirits of this age O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early, Who, having some advantage on Octavius, Took it too eagerly But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in telling it and deliver a plain message bluntly Never afflict yourself to know the cause; But let his disposition have that scope That dotage gives it Why not by th' hand, sir? How have I offended? All's not offence that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so But, for true need- You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both How malicious is my fortune that I must repent to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France But who comes here? My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority Enter, with Drum and Colours, the Powers of France over the stage, Cordelia with her Father in her hand, and exeunt List a brief tale; And when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst! The bloody proclamation to escape That follow'd me so near (O, our lives' sweetness! That with the pain of death would hourly die Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift Into a madman's rags, t' assume a semblance That very dogs disdain'd; and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair; Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd, Not sure, though hoping of this good success, I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last Told him my pilgrimage Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good repute and carriage Adieu, valour; rust, rapier; be still, drum; for your manager is in love; yea, he loveth 'Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before, And he from forage will incline to play The very all of all is- but, sweet heart, I do implore secrecy- that the King would have me present the Princess, sweet chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antic, or firework Joshua, yourself; myself, Alexander; this gallant gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules Their several counsels they unbosom shall To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal Upon the next occasion that we meet With visages display'd to talk and greet Much upon this it is; [To BOYET] and might not you Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squier, And laugh upon the apple of her eye? And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? You put our page out Silenced with that, In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death One of my fellows had the speed of him, Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message Ah, good father, Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man's act, Threaten his bloody stage Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood; Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse See that Claudio Be executed by nine to-morrow morning; Bring him his confessor; let him be prepar'd; For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage I have no tongue but one; gentle, my lord, Let me intreat you speak the former language Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point; only refer yourself to this advantage Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the Duke's time; he promis'd her marriage Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested, Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage Well then, your bond; and, let me see- but hear you, Methoughts you said you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all, Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong, Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage; therefore be advis'd She hath directed How I shall take her from her father's house; What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with; What page's suit she hath in readiness What says this leaden casket? 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' Must give- for what? For lead? Hazard for lead! This casket threatens; men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages He may win; And what is music then? Then music is Even as the flourish when true subjects bow To a new-crowned monarch; such it is As are those dulcet sounds in break of day That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear And summon him to marriage I give them with this ring, Which when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, And be my vantage to exclaim on you I have heard Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer with a quietness of spirit The very tyranny and rage of his In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage Dramatis Personae SIR JOHN FALSTAFF FENTON, a young gentleman SHALLOW, a country justice SLENDER, cousin to Shallow Gentlemen of Windsor FORD PAGE WILLIAM PAGE, a boy, son to Page SIR HUGH EVANS, a Welsh parson DOCTOR CAIUS, a French physician HOST of the Garter Inn Followers of Falstaff BARDOLPH PISTOL NYM ROBIN, page to Falstaff SIMPLE, servant to Slender RUGBY, servant to Doctor Caius MISTRESS FORD MISTRESS PAGE MISTRESS ANNE PAGE, her daughter MISTRESS QUICKLY, servant to Doctor Caius SERVANTS to Page, Ford, etc. It were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page Enter MISTRESS ANNE PAGE with wine; MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE, following PAGE Give her this letter; for it is a oman that altogether's acquaintance with Mistress Anne Page; and the letter is to desire and require her to solicit your master's desires to Mistress Anne Page Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go; Trudge, plod away i' th' hoof; seek shelter, pack! Falstaff will learn the humour of the age; French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master, in the way of marriage Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and MISTRESS QUICKLY PAGE That were a jest indeed! They have not so little grace, I hope-that were a trick indeed! But Mistress Page would desire you to send her your little page of all loves Her husband has a marvellous infection to the little page; and truly Master Page is an honest man Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me; if you will help to bear it, Sir John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage Though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, SLENDER, HOST, SIR HUGH EVANS, CAIUS, and RUGBY SHALLOW, PAGE, &C Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman that he says is here now in the house, by your consent, to take an ill advantage of his absence FORD I'll to the Doctor; he hath my good will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page DOCTOR CAIUS comes one way, and steals away a fairy in green; SLENDER another way, and takes off a fairy in white; and FENTON steals away ANNE PAGE FALSTAFF pulls off his buck's head, and rises Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and SIR HUGH EVANS PAGE Dispatch'd! I'll make the best in Gloucestershire know on't; would I were hang'd, la, else! PAGE Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened; I ha' married un garcon, a boy; un paysan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page; by gar, I am cozened Th' offence is holy that she hath committed; And this deceit loses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or unduteous title, Since therein she doth evitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed hours, Which forced marriage would have brought upon her His mother was a vot'ress of my order; And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking th' embarked traders on the flood; When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive, And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait Following- her womb then rich with my young squire- Would imitate, and sail upon the land, To fetch me trifles, and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandise And ere I take this charm from off her sight, As I can take it with another herb, I'll make her render up her page to me You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus, and hang'd himself in Thisby's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be disdain'd of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchis'd with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage The Prince your brother is royally entertain'd by Leonato, and I can give you intelligence of an intended marriage By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged affection And the ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter is sometime afeard she will do a desperate outrage to herself The sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, and no such matter I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against marriage But doth not the appetite alters? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age You seem to me as Dian in her orb, As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; But you are more intemperate in your blood Than Venus, or those pamp'red animals That rage in savage sensuality Others there are Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, And throwing but shows of service on their lords Do well thrive by them; and when they have lined their coats Do themselves homage If we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskillful To leave that latest which concerns him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless No, faith; she let it drop by negligence, And, to the advantage, I being here took't up Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me all conveniency than suppliest me with the least advantage of hope Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his Majesty; For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts! Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made, my liege, Ere further leisure yicld them further means For their advantage and your Highness' loss The King is come; deal mildly with his youth, For young hot colts being rag'd do rage the more The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be The bay trees in our country are all wither'd, And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap- The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, The other to enjoy by rage and war Enter on the walls, the KING, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, AUMERLE, SCROOP, and SALISBURY See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, As doth the blushing discontented sun From out the fiery portal of the east, When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the occident He did, my gracious lord, begin that place, Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified But I shall laugh at this a twelve month hence, That they which brought me in my master's hate, I live to look upon their tragedy O bloody Richard! Miserable England! I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee That ever wretched age hath look'd upon Ghastly looks Are at my service, like enforced smiles; And both are ready in their offices At any time to grace my stratagems Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold Will tempt unto a close exploit of death? PAGE Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go; Make bold her bashful years with your experience; Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale; Put in her tender heart th' aspiring flame Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the Princes With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd, Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; The parents live whose children thou hast butcheed, Old barren plants, to wail it with their age Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we march'd on without impediment; And here receive we from our father Stanley Lines of fair comfort and encouragement Then if you fight against God's enemy, God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; If you do fight against your country's foes, Your country's foes shall pay your pains the hire; If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; If you do free your children from the sword, Your children's children quits it in your age This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish, hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet; As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, And all combin'd, save what thou must combine By holy marriage If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep My dreams presage some joyful news at hand Exit a SERVINGMAN I know the boy will well usurp the grace, Voice, gait, and action, of a gentlewoman; I long to hear him call the drunkard 'husband'; And how my men will stay themselves from laughter When they do homage to this simple peasant Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays, [Music] And twenty caged nightingales do sing Well, I say no; and therefore, for assurance, Let's each one send unto his wife, And he whose wife is most obedient, To come at first when he doth send for her, Shall win the wager which we will propose Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging; make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage Now does my project gather to a head; My charms crack not, my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage Who can call him his friend That dips in the same dish? For, in my knowing, Timon has been this lord's father, And kept his credit with his purse; Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money Has paid his men their wages I'd rather than the worth of thrice the sum Had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake; I'd such a courage to do him good So did we woo Transformed Timon to our city's love By humble message and by promis'd means I am his first born son that was the last That ware the imperial diadem of Rome; Then let my father's honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity [Aside] A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue That I would choose, were I to choose anew.- Clear up, fair Queen, that cloudy countenance; Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome- Princely shall be thy usage every way see thy two sons' heads, Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here; Thy other banish'd son with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb May this be borne- as if his traitorous sons That died by law for murder of our brother Have by my means been butchered wrongfully? Go drag the villain hither by the hair; Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege I am as woeful as Virginius was, And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage; and it now is done To Tenedos they come, And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their war-like fraughtage The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns The sinew and the forehand of our host, Having his ear full of his airy fame, Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent Lies mocking our designs; with him Patroclus Upon a lazy bed the livelong day Breaks scurril jests; And with ridiculous and awkward action- Which, slanderer, he imitation calls- He pageants us 'Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god-I And the will dotes that is attributive To what infectiously itself affects, Without some image of th' affected merit I stalk about her door Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage I said 'Good morrow, Ajax'; and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think you of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land fish, languageless, a monster Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce; But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance As heart can think or courage execute With drinking healths to my niece; I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain; The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age Why, thou hast put him in such a dream that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth, set upon Aguecheek notable report of valour, and drive the gentleman- as know his youth will aptly receive it- into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws I knew him as myself; for from our infancy We have convers'd and spent our hours together; And though myself have been an idle truant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name, Made use and fair advantage of his days Not like a woman, for I would prevent The loose encounters of lascivious men; Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds As may beseem some well-reputed page I know you have determin'd to bestow her On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates; And should she thus be stol'n away from you, It would be much vexation to your age There is a lady, in Verona here, Whom I affect; but she is nice, and coy, And nought esteems my aged eloquence Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, And manage it against despairing thoughts He lives not now that knows me to be in love; yet I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet 'tis a maid, for she is her master's maid and serves for wages I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; But yet I slew him manfully in fight, Without false vantage or base treachery This entertainment May a free face put on; derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, And well become the agent Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' th' sun, And with him rises weeping; these are flow'rs Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves No, good sir; He has his health, and ampler strength indeed Than most have of his age But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing So aged as this seems Time had not scythed all that youth begun, Nor youth all quit, but spite of heaven's fell rage Some beauty peeped through lattice of seared age If that from him there may be aught applied Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, 'Tis promised in the charity of age Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" And controversy hence a question takes Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by th' well-doing steed 'So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of arguments and question deep, All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep '"O pardon me in that my boast is true! The accident which brought me to her eye Upon the moment did her force subdue, And now she would the caged cloister fly Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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