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Shakespeare quotes on artWhy lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly, Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts Source: THE SONNETS 17 Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts 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 21 So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven it self for ornament doth use, And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems 24 Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled, Thy beauty's form in table of my heart, My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, And perspective it is best painter's art Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done, Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart And each (though enemies to either's reign) Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give, That I in thy abundance am sufficed, And by a part of all thy glory live 41 Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art And when a woman woos, what woman's son, Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed? Ay me, but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty, and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth 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 As thus, mine eye's due is thy outward part, And my heart's right, thy inward love of heart 47 Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, And each doth good turns now unto the other, When that mine eye is famished for a look, Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother; With my love's picture then my eye doth feast, And to the painted banquet bids my heart Another time mine eye is my heart's guest, And in his thoughts of love doth share a part Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight 48 How careful was I when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, Thou best of dearest, and mine only care, Art left the prey of every vulgar thief In all external grace you have some part, But you like none, none you for constant heart 62 Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye, And all my soul, and all my every part; And for this sin there is no remedy, It is so grounded inward in my heart In him those holy antique hours are seen, Without all ornament, it self and true, Making no summer of another's green, Robbing no old to dress his beauty new, And him as for a map doth Nature store, To show false Art what beauty was of yore 69 Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view, Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend 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 Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days, Either not assailed, or victor being charged, Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, To tie up envy, evermore enlarged, If some suspect of ill masked not thy show, Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, To do more for me than mine own desert, And hang more praise upon deceased I, Than niggard truth would willingly impart Yet be most proud of that which I compile, Whose influence is thine, and born of thee, In others' works thou dost but mend the style, And arts with thy sweet graces graced be 81 Or I shall live your epitaph to make, Or you survive when I in earth am rotten, From hence your memory death cannot take, Although in me each part will be forgotten 87 Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate, The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing 88 When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against my self I'll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn 117 Accuse me thus, that I have scanted all, Wherein I should your great deserts repay, Forgot upon your dearest love to call, Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day, That I have frequent been with unknown minds, And given to time your own dear-purchased right, That I have hoisted sail to all the winds Which should transport me farthest from your sight 131 Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel O let it then as well beseem thy heart To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace, And suit thy pity like in every part 139 O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art, Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart forbear to glance thine eye aside, What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o'erpressed defence can bide? Let me excuse thee, ah my love well knows, Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries That I may not be so, nor thou belied, Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide But my five wits, nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man, Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night He hath arm'd our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes; Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part One in ten, quoth 'a! An we might have a good woman born before every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim; But know I think, and think I know most sure, My art is not past power nor you past cure You should have said, sir, 'Before a knave th'art a knave'; that's 'Before me th'art a knave.' This had been truth, sir I have then sinn'd against his experience and transgress'd against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and required office On my particular If the business be of any difficulty and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart shall be found an ass Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts They are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Art turn'd the greatest liar he fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners What you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker What say you? Hence, [Strikes him] Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; [She hales him up and down] Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire and stew'd in brine, Smarting in ling'ring pickle O, that his fault should make a knave of thee That art not what th'art sure of! Get thee hence Well, I know not What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face; But in my bosom shall she never come To make my heart her vassal I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties So the gods keep you, And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends! We will here part A more unhappy lady, If this division chance, ne'er stood between, Praying for both parts Provide your going; Choose your own company, and command what cost Your heart has mind to Caesar; and that, having in Sicily Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him His part o' th' isle He hath given his empire Up to a whore, who now are levying The kings o' th' earth for war Tell him he wears the rose Of youth upon him; from which the world should note Something particular To be furious Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still A diminution in our captain's brain Restores his heart O Antony, Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid My better service, when my turpitude Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart I fight against thee? No! I will go seek Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits My latter part of life O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm- Whose eye beck'd forth my wars and call'd them home, Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end- Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss The last she spake Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!' Then in the midst a tearing groan did break The name of Antony; it was divided Between her heart and lips Exit MARDIAN Off, pluck off! The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep The battery from my heart Noblest of men, woo't die? Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a sty? O, see, my women, [Antony dies] The crown o' th' earth doth melt Then is it sin To rush into the secret house of death Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian! My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart He is dead, Caesar, Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand Which writ his honour in the acts it did Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, Splitted the heart His face was as the heav'ns, and therein stuck A sun and moon, which kept their course and lighted The little O, the earth Would I might never O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel, By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites My very heart at root Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him, and encourage him; My father's rough and envious disposition Sticks me at heart I will here be with the presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die; but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be remov'd with earthquakes, and so encounter It is young Orlando, that tripp'd up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant Will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? MARTEXT Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts, and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapp'd him o' th' shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; will o'er-run thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways; therefore tremble and depart I have, since I was three year old, convers'd with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measur'd swords and parted Good Duke, receive thy daughter; Hymen from heaven brought her, Yea, brought her hither, That thou mightst join her hand with his, Whose heart within his bosom is Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; Therefore by law thou art condemn'd to die Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die By computation and mine host's report I could not speak with Dromio since at first I sent him from the mart How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes it, That thou art then estranged from thyself? Thyself I call it, being strange to me, That, undividable, incorporate, Am better than thy dear self's better part But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart Sweet mistress-what your name is else, I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine- Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not Than our earth's wonder-more than earth, divine 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 I cannot, nor I will not hold me still; My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold; methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, A charitable duty of my order; Therefore depart, and leave him here with me Not know my voice! O time's extremity, Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue In seven short years that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares? Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear; All these old witnesses-I cannot err- Tell me thou art my son Antipholus I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it to that end; though soft-conscienc'd men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i' th' vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope The gates of Corioli TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a LIEUTENANT, other soldiers, and a scout LARTIUS Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart Let's to the Capitol, And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time, But hearts for the event Are you all resolv'd to give your voices? But that's no matter, the greater part carries it Exeunt CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS He has it now; and by his looks methinks 'Tis warm at's heart Let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death With as big heart as thou You were us'd to load me With precepts that would make invincible The heart that conn'd them My first son, Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile; determine on some course More than a wild exposture to each chance That starts i' th' way before thee 'I would he had!' 'Twas you incens'd the rabble- Cats that can judge as fitly of his worth As I can of those mysteries which heaven Will not have earth to know You hear what he hath said Which was sometime his general, who lov'd him In a most dear particular Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general What is that curtsy worth? or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others Say my request's unjust, And spurn me back; but if it he not so, Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee, That thou restrain'st from me the duty which To a mother's part belongs Peace, ho! No outrage- peace! The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o' th' earth Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow I have spoke this to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted, and shall make your lord That which he is new o'er; and he is one The truest manner'd, such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him, Half all men's hearts are his I had almost forgot T' entreat your Grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord; myself and other noble friends Are partners in the business Could I find out The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man but I affirm It is the woman's part Look! I draw the sword myself; take it, and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart What is here? The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more Be stomachers to my heart Ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word, or else Thou art straightway with the fiends Well encounter'd! 'Tis almost night; you shall have better cheer Ere you depart, and thanks to stay and eat it 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 Athwart the lane He, with two striplings- lads more like to run The country base than to commit such slaughter; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cas'd or shame- Made good the passage, cried to those that fled 'Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men Well, I will find him; For being now a favourer to the Briton, No more a Briton, I have resum'd again The part I came in Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stay'd Attending nature's law; Whose father then, as men report Thou orphans' father art, Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills, which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch we have here writ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, Who, impotent and bedrid, scarcely hears Of this his nephew's purpose, to suppress His further gait herein, in that the levies, The lists, and full proportions are all made Out of his subject; and we here dispatch You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltemand, For bearers of this greeting to old Norway, Giving to you no further personal power To business with the King, more than the scope Of these dilated articles allow 'Tis unmanly grief; It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, An understanding simple and unschool'd; For what we know must be, and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sense, Why should we in our peevish opposition Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, To reason most absurd, whose common theme Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first corse till he that died to-day, 'This must be so.' We pray you throw to earth This unprevailing woe, and think of us As of a father; for let the world take note You are the most immediate to our throne, And with no less nobility of love Than that which dearest father bears his son Do I impart toward you This gentle and unforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the King's rouse the heaven shall bruit again, Respeaking earthly thunder So oft it chances in particular men That, for some vicious mole of nature in them, As in their birth,- wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin,- By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much o'erleavens The form of plausive manners, that these men Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, Their virtues else- be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo- Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault Look you, sir, Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it If he love her not, And he not from his reason fall'n thereon Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm and carters O wonderful son, that can so stonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart What can it not? Yet what can it when one cannot repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay You shall not budge I You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you Alas, how is't with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy, And with th' encorporal air do hold discourse? Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; And, as the sleeping soldiers in th' alarm, Your bedded hairs, like life in excrements, Start up and stand an end Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es And dupp'd the chamber door, Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls Indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry; for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see Yea, and so us'd it that, were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent- But I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fubb'd as it is with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it- a villanous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack, die when thou wilt; if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring Peace, good tickle-brain.- Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied A shorter time shall send me to you, lords; And in my conduct shall your ladies come, From whom you now must steal and take no leave, For there will be a world of water shed Upon the parting of your wives and you And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; For thou hast lost thy princely privilege With vile participation But wherefore do I tell these news to thee Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, Which art my nearest and dearest enemy' Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, Base inclination, and the start of spleen, To fight against me under Percy's pay, To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, To show how much thou art degenerate Percy is but my factor, good my lord, To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; And I will call hall to so strict account That he shall render every glory up, Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it! I am an honest man's wife, and, setting thy knight-hood aside, thou art a knave to call me so By God, I cannot flatter, I defy The tongues of soothers! but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, Meet, and ne'er part till one drop down a corse Know then my name is Douglas, And I do haunt thee in the battle thus Because some tell me that thou art a king The better part of valour is discretion; in the which better part I have saved my life Open your ears; for which of you will stop The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Rememb'red tolling a departing friend 'A calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red lattice, and I could discern no part of his face from the window Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses thy favours so much that he swears thou art to marry his sister Nell The Prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, said 'I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, withered knights.' It ang'red him to the heart; but he hath forgot that Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome Then you perceive the body of our kingdom How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, And with what danger, near the heart of it Dead! 'A would have clapp'd i' th' clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see And yet, for mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am unwilling and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends; else, sir, I did not care for mine own part so much My brother general, the commonwealth, To brother horn an household cruelty, I make my quarrel in particular Our battle is more full of names than yours, Our men more perfect in the use of arms, Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; Then reason will our hearts should be as good Yea, but our valuation shall be such That every slight and false-derived cause, Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, Shall to the King taste of this action; That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, And good from bad find no partition A peace is of the nature of a conquest; For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, And neither party loser The second property of your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood; which before, cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice; but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extremes The manner how this action hath been borne Here at more leisure may your Highness read, With every course in his particular What, canst thou not forbear me half an hour? Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself; And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear That thou art crowned, not that I am dead 'The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father; Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold To thee it shall descend with better quiet, Better opinion, better confirmation; For all the soil of the achievement goes With me into the earth Sorrow so royally in you appears That I will deeply put the fashion on, And wear it in my heart [Singing] A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, And drink unto the leman mine; And a merry heart lives long-a Honest Bardolph, welcome; if thou want'st anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart Suppose within the girdle of these walls Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies, Whose high upreared and abutting fronts The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder that self bill is urg'd Which in th' eleventh year of the last king's reign Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd But that the scambling and unquiet time Did push it out of farther question He seems indifferent Or rather swaying more upon our part Than cherishing th' exhibiters against us; For I have made an offer to his Majesty- Upon our spiritual convocation And in regard of causes now in hand, Which I have open'd to his Grace at large, As touching France- to give a greater sum Than ever at one time the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part withal those that were your father's enemies Have steep'd their galls in honey, and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it Pray thee, Corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot, and for mine own part I have not a case of lives Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you; being as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities Me well; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress Fight valiantly to-day; And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour An please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if there is any martial law in the world My duty to you both, on equal love, Great Kings of France and England! That I have labour'd With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, To bring your most imperial Majesties Unto this bar and royal interview, Your mightiness on both parts best can witness Our gracious brother, I will go with them; Haply a woman's voice may do some good, When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us; She is our capital demand, compris'd Within the fore-rank of our articles Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, Our bending author hath pursu'd the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens So in the earth, to this day is not known Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him fore me? Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook! Thou art no friend to God or to the King Gloucester, we'll meet to thy cost, be sure; Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel And spurn in pieces posts of adamant; Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had That walk'd about me every minute-while; And if I did but stir out of my bed, Ready they were to shoot me to the heart Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, By whose approach the regions of Artois, Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us, This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, Having all day carous'd and banqueted; Embrace we then this opportunity, As fitting best to quittance their deceit, Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath, For I am sorry that with reverence I did not entertain thee as thou art Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge, For treason executed in our late king's days? And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood; And till thou be restor'd thou art a yeoman Thou art a most pernicious usurer; Froward by nature, enemy to peace; Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems A man of thy profession and degree; And for thy treachery, what's more manifest In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life, As well at London Bridge as at the Tower? Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The King, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt From envious malice of thy swelling heart Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester, The special watchmen of our English weal, I would prevail, if prayers might prevail To join your hearts in love and amity Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me; Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, And will be partner of your weal or woe And that is my petition, noble lord; For though he seem with forged quaint conceit To set a gloss upon his bold intent, Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him, And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart [Drum afar off] Hark! hark! The Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; And mine shall ring thy dire departure out The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart; These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart [She is going] O, stay! [Aside] I have no power to let her pass; My hand would free her, but my heart says no Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch! I am descended of a gentler blood; Thou art no father nor no friend of mine Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, But issued from the progeny of kings; Virtuous and holy, chosen from above By inspiration of celestial grace, To work exceeding miracles on earth Great King of England, and my gracious lord, The mutual conference that my mind hath had, By day, by night, waking and in my dreams, In courtly company or at my beads, With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign, Makes me the bolder to salute my king With ruder terms, such as my wit affords And over-joy of heart doth minister Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech, Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, Makes me from wond'ring fall to weeping joys, Such is the fulness of my heart's content Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland, Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt Unto the prince's heart of Calydon 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 I prithee, peace, Good Queen, and whet not on these furious peers; For blessed are the peacemakers on earth Exeunt the DUCHESS and the other prisoners, guarded Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief Stanley, I prithee go, and take me hence; I care not whither, for I beg no favour, Only convey me where thou art commanded Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon, Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art I fear me you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, And fought so long tiff that his thighs with darts Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine; And in the end being rescu'd, I have seen Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength, And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd; For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart, the next for me O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, Once by the King and three times thrice by thee, 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence; A wilderness is populous enough, So Suffolk had thy heavenly company; For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world; And where thou art not, desolation To signify unto his Majesty That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death; For suddenly a grievous sickness took him That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth By devilish policy art thou grown great, And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart We will not leave one lord, one gentleman; Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, For they are thrifty honest men and such As would- but that they dare not- take our parts 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 What canst thou answer to my Majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art 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 Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine; See if thou canst outface me with thy looks; Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon; My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast, And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth How now! Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprisoned thoughts And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart But that my heart's on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; But fly you must; uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts What, shall we suffer this? Let's pluck him down; My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it Poor queen! How love to me and to her son Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Reveng'd may she be on that hateful Duke, Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle Tire on the flesh of me and of my son! The loss of those three lords torments my heart Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest Until the white rose that I wear be dy'd Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me; No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come, make him stand upon this molehill here That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand I think it cites us, brother, to the field, That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, Each one already blazing by our meeds, Should notwithstanding join our lights together And overshine the earth, as this the world Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depart My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? A deadly groan, like life and death's departing From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite By living low where fortune cannot hurt me, And that the people of this blessed land May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars, Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, I here resign my government to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak- And I will speak, that so my heart may burst What! wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher, Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder That such a keech can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' th' beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth I cannot tell What heaven hath given him-let some graver eye Pierce into that; but I can see his pride Peep through each part of him You know his nature, That he's revengeful; and I know his sword Hath a sharp edge-it's long and't may be said It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it It will help nothing To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me Which makes my whit'st part black Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true These news are everywhere; every tongue speaks 'em, And every true heart weeps for 't Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS with a commission Who's there? My good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded conscience, Thou art a cure fit for a King To your Highness' hand I tender my commission; by whose virtue- The court of Rome commanding-you, my Lord Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant In the unpartial judging of this business Thou art, alone- If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out- The queen of earthly queens 'Twill be much Both for your honour better and your cause; For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye You'll part away disgrac'd The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye 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 Katharine no more Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager And widow to Prince Arthur I am able now, methinks, Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, To endure more miseries and greater far Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer Seek the King; That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him What and how true thou art '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 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 Noble lady, First, mine own service to your Grace; the next, The King's request that I would visit you, Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations And heartily entreats you take good comfort If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life And able means, we had not parted thus I could not personally deliver to her What you commanded me, but by her woman I sent your message; who return'd her thanks In the great'st humbleness, and desir'd your Highness Most heartily to pray for her I miss'd the meteor once, and hit that woman, who cried out 'Clubs!' when I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o' th' Strand, where she was quartered [Kneeling] And to your royal Grace and the good Queen! My noble partners and myself thus pray Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, Sir Robert's son! Why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou your fault was not your folly; Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand Some trumpet summon hither to the walls These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's You men of Angiers, open wide your gates And let young Arthur, Duke of Britaine, in, Who by the hand of France this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground; Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, Coldly embracing the discoloured earth; And victory with little loss doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French, Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, To enter conquerors, and to proclaim Arthur of Britaine England's King and yours To solemnize this day the glorious sun Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, Turning with splendour of his precious eye The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold this hair I tear is mine; My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did [Showing a paper] [Aside] How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief, lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.- Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ? ARTHUR Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, Throw this report on their incensed rage And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! The earth had not a hole to hide this deed Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair work? Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damn'd, Hubert A noble temper dost thou show in this; And great affections wrestling in thy bosom Doth make an earthquake of nobility I will upon all hazards well believe Thou art my friend that know'st my tongue so well Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind To do the office for thee of revenge, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on earth hath been thy servant still The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy Three or four wenches where I stood cried, "Alas, good soul!" and forgave him with all their hearts Nay, an I tell you that, I'll ne'er look you i' the face again; but those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads; but for mine own part, it was Greek to me Be factious for redress of all these griefs, And I will set this foot of mine as far As who goes farthest You are my true and honorable wife, As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart Portia, go in awhile, And by and by thy bosom shall partake The secrets of my heart Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, They could not find a heart within the beast [Aside.] That every like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! Exeunt Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat An humble heart Brutus shall lead, and we will grace his heels With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome Tell him, so please him come unto this place, He shall be satisfied and, by my honor, Depart untouch'd O world, thou wast the forest to this hart, And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther If that thou best a Roman, take it forth; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart Art thou anything? Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare? Speak to me what thou art Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made Forever and forever farewell, Brutus! If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed; If not, 'tis true this parting was well made The sway, Revenue, execution of the rest, Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm, This coronet part betwixt you If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience Into her womb convey sterility; Dry up in her the organs of increase; And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her! If she must teem, Create her child of spleen, that it may live And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King, and take Vanity the puppet's part against the royalty of her father [rises] Never, Regan! She hath abated me of half my train; Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, And let not women's weapons, water drops, Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags! I will have such revenges on you both That all the world shall- I will do such things- What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be The terrors of the earth! You think I'll weep Hide thee, thou bloody hand; Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue That art incestuous keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman Ha! Here's three on's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's heart- a small spark, all the rest on's body cold He gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth 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 Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, So many fadom down precipitating, Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg; but thou dost breathe; Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; Our court shall be a little Academe, Still and contemplative in living art Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, We bend to that the working of the heart; As I for praise alone now seek to spill The poor deer's blood that my heart means no ill [Reads] 'By heaven, that thou art fair is most infallible; true that thou art beauteous; truth itself that thou art lovely Thus expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, the soil, the land, the earth Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, Where all those pleasures live that art would comprehend If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend; All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire You do not love Maria! Longaville Did never sonnet for her sake compile; Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart His loving bosom, to keep down his heart And among other importunate and most serious designs, and of great import indeed, too- but let that pass; for I must tell thee it will please his Grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his royal finger thus dally with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet heart, let that pass Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, And quite divorce his memory from his part There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown, To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own; So shall we stay, mocking intended game, And they well mock'd depart away with shame He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler; but for Alisander- alas! you see how 'tis- a little o'erparted True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that 'a wears next his heart for a favour If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence hermit then, my heart is in thy breast Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art Think upon what hath chanced, and at more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved, nor must be known No less to have done so; let me infold thee And hold thee to my heart Lay it to thy heart, and farewell." Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promised Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth My way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf, And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not 'Tis his main hope; For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things Whose hearts are absent too I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me Hold, therefore, Angelo- In our remove be thou at full ourself; Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart I would not- though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, Tongue far from heart- play with all virgins so You may not so extenuate his offence For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, When I, that censure him, do so offend, Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, And nothing come in partial Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade; The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade O place, O form, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood Sign me a present pardon for my brother Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world aloud What man thou art To speak so indirectly I am loath; I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, That is your part With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant them a fair departure When Laban and himself were compromis'd That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, In end of autumn turned to the rams; And when the work of generation was Between these woolly breeders in the act, The skilful shepherd pill'd me certain wands, And, in the doing of the deed of kind, He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart Go with me to a notary, seal me there Your single bond, and, in a merry sport, If you repay me not on such a day, In such a place, such sum or sums as are Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit Be nominated for an equal pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock He answered 'Do not so; Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time; And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your mind of love; Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts To courtship, and such fair ostents of love As shall conveniently become you there.' And even there, his eye being big with tears, Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, And with affection wondrous sensible He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was us'd to come so smug upon the mart In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt But, being season'd with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts And yet, dear lady, Rating myself at nothing, you shall see How much I was a braggart You may as well go stand upon the beach And bid the main flood bate his usual height; You may as well use question with the wolf, Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; You may as well forbid the mountain pines To wag their high tops and to make no noise When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; You may as well do anything most hard As seek to soften that- than which what's harder?- His jewish heart Why, this bond is forfeit; And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant's heart Ay, his breast- So says the bond; doth it not, noble judge? 'Nearest his heart,' those are the very words Repent but you that you shall lose your friend, And he repents not that he pays your debt; For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, I'll pay it instantly with all my heart 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 Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, Since you do take it, love, so much at heart Now by this hand I gave it to a youth, A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; A prating boy that begg'd it as a fee; I could not for my heart deny it him If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring that is, Master Page, fidelicet Master Page; and there is myself, fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter Let's be reveng'd on him; let's appoint him a meeting, give him a show of comfort in his suit, and lead him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath pawn'd his horses to mine host of the Garter Alas, the sweet woman leads an ill life with him! He's a very jealousy man; she leads a very frampold life with him, good heart Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my good parts aside, I have no other charms Then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises; and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect I desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog our prains together to be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the host of the Garter By the Lord, thou art a tyrant to say so; thou wouldst make an absolute courtier, and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a semi-circled farthingale Now Heaven send thee good fortune! [Exit FENTON] A kind heart he hath; a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart Oman, art thou lunatics? Hast thou no understandings for thy cases, and the numbers of the genders? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies And here it rests-that you'll procure the vicar To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one, And in the lawful name of marrying, To give our hearts united ceremony [Exit CAIUS] My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter; but 'tis no matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak With trial-fire touch me his finger-end; If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, And turn him to no pain; but if he start, It is the flesh of a corrupted heart You, Pyramus' father; myself, Thisby's father; Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's part But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; And for her sake do I rear up her boy; And for her sake I will not part with him One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms, and one troth To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was Come, tears, confound; Out, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus; Ay, that left pap, Where heart doth hop But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see him but I am heart-burn'd an hour after Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use for it--a double heart for his single one It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor Duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship There's a double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus did she an hour together transshape thy particular virtues Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness, Being full of supper and distempering draughts, Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come To start my quiet I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practicer Of arts inhibited and out of warrant But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear A noble ship of Venice Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance On most part of their fleet If partially affined, or leagued in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier When I came back- For this was brief- I found them close together, At blow and thrust, even as again they were When you yourself did part them I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces Before Emilia here I give thee warrant of thy place, assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it To the last article By the world, I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; I think that thou art just, and think thou art not A sibyl, that had number'd in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew'd the work; The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk, And it was dyed in mummy which the skillful Conserved of maiden's hearts Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her, Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear O, enforce it! Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb, That mettle, that self mould, that fashion'd thee, Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, Yet art thou slain in him I have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongue's office should be prodigal To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, And not the King exil'd thee; or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air And thou art flying to a fresher clime Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a tear O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, Which art possess'd now to depose thyself Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, It were a shame to let this land by lease; But for thy world enjoying but this land, Is it not more than shame to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou now, not King The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes; And quite lost their hearts; the nobles hath he find For ancient quarrels and quite lost their hearts Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland And that is the wavering commons; for their love Lies in their purses; and whoso empties them, By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate Like an unseasonable stormy day Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, As if the world were all dissolv'd to tears, So high above his limits swells the rage Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke; And all your northern castles yielded up, And all your southern gentlemen in arms Upon his party Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water; The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain My waters-on the earth, and not on him I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figur'd goblets for a dish of wood, My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, My subjects for a pair of carved saints, And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little little grave, an obscure grave- Or I'll be buried in the king's high way, Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; For on my heart they tread now whilst I live, And buried once, why not upon my head? Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! We'll make foul weather with despised tears; Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn And make a dearth in this revolting land Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee To make the base earth proud with kissing it Dishonourable boy! That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword That it shall render vengeance and revenge Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do he In earth as quiet as thy father's skull O, if you raise this house against this house, It will the woefullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth I see your brows are full of discontent, Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, And piece the way out with a heavy heart One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart Let him thank me that holp to send him thither, For he was fitter for that place than earth I never sued to friend nor enemy; My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak I cannot blame her; by God's holy Mother, She hath had too much wrong; and I repent My part thereof that I have done to her But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it I charge you, as you hope to have redemption By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, That you depart and lay no hands on me Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven I every day expect an embassage From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; And more at peace my soul shall part to heaven, Since I have made my friends at peace on earth By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, For God sake, let not us two stay at home; For by the way I'll sort occasion, As index to the story we late talk'd of, To part the Queen's proud kindred from the Prince When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth Sweet Prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit; Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show; which, God He knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart Those uncles which you want were dangerous; Your Grace attended to their sug'red words But look'd not on the poison of their hearts Then, taking him from thence that is not there, You break no privilege nor charter there Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend As closely to conceal what we impart But you, my honourable lords, may name the time; And in the Duke's behalf I'll give my voice, Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part I think there's never a man in Christendom Can lesser hide his love or hate than he; For by his face straight shall you know his heart If?-thou protector of this damned strumpet, Talk'st thou to me of ifs? Thou art a traitor Who meets us here? My niece Plantagenet, Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, On pure heart's love, to greet the tender Princes Know, my loving lord, The Marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled To Richmond, in the parts where he abides Where is thy husband now? Where be thy brothers? Where be thy two sons? Wherein dost thou joy? Who sues, and kneels, and says 'God save the Queen'? Where be the bending peers that flattered thee? Where be the thronging troops that followed thee? Decline an this, and see what now thou art Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about And left thee but a very prey to time, Having no more but thought of what thou wast To torture thee the more, being what thou art Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries, Let them have scope; though what they will impart Help nothing else, yet do they case the heart No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers, And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a boat Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks If they were his assistants, yea or no; Who answer'd him they came from Buckingham Upon his party I'll draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small power O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness! Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death; Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! [To RICHMOND] I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid; But cheer thy heart and be thou not dismay'd The sweetest sleep and fairest-boding dreams That ever ent'red in a drowsy head Have I since your departure had, my lords For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The least of you shall share his part thereof Enter an officer, and three or four Citizens with clubs or partisans Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Cank'red with peace, to part your cank'red hate While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the farthest East bean to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight And makes himself an artificial night At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou her maid art far more fair than she Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power; For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart 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 Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter Either withdraw unto some private place And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'I,' And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth I'll give thee armour to keep off that word; Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, To comfort thee, though thou art banished [aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.- God pardon him! I do, with all my heart; And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart Indeed I never shall be satisfied With Romeo till I behold him- dead- Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd O God!- O nurse, how shall this be prevented? My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven How shall that faith return again to earth Unless that husband send it me from heaven By leaving earth? Comfort me, counsel me Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead Your part in her you could not keep from death, But heaven keeps his part in eternal life Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favour can I do to thee Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin.' Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe That unsubstantial Death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that I still will stay with thee And never from this palace of dim night Depart again This letter he early bid me give his father, And threat'ned me with death, going in the vault, If I departed not and left him there Or wilt thou hunt? Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them And fetch shall echoes from the hollow earth O, yes, my lord, but very idle words; For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; And rail upon the hostess of the house, And say you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts [They exchange habits] In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, And I am tied to be obedient- For so your father charg'd me at our parting A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, I bade the rascal knock upon your gate, And could not get him for my heart to do it [To LUCENTIO] You may go walk and give me leave awhile; My lessons make no music in three Parts This done, he took the bride about the neck, And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack That at the parting all the church did echo Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water? Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, That have been so bedazzled with the sun That everything I look on seemeth green; Now I perceive thou art a reverend father Use your authority; if you cannot, give thanks you have liv'd so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap.-Cheerly, good hearts!-Out of our way, I say Hang, cur; hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker; we are less afraid to be drown'd than thou art O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! A brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perish'd Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking Graves at my command Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth, By my so potent art Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian- Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong- Would here have kill'd your king, I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; And to thee and thy company I bid A hearty welcome Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest Come, shall we in And taste Lord Timon's bounty? He outgoes The very heart of kindness Sometime 't appears like a lord; sometime like a lawyer; sometime like a philosopher, with two stones moe than's artificial one Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart For mine own part, I never tasted Timon in my life, Nor came any of his bounties over me To mark me for his friend; yet I protest, For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, And honourable carriage, Had his necessity made use of me, I would have put my wealth into donation, And the best half should have return'd to him, So much I love his heart When thou wast in thy gilt and thy perfume, they mock'd thee for too much curiosity; in thy rags thou know'st none, but art despis'd for the contrary Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; Then, if thou grant'st th'art a man, I have forgot thee [To To POET] And for thy fiction, Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth That thou art even natural in thine art This man was riding From Alcibiades to Timon's cave With letters of entreaty, which imported His fellowship i' th' cause against your city, In part for his sake mov'd Nor are they living Who were the motives that you first went out; Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess Hath broke their hearts Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh Before this earthy prison of their bones, That so the shadows be not unappeas'd, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth In peace and honour live Lord Titus long; My noble lord and father, live in fame! Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears I render for my brethren's obsequies; And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy Shed on this earth for thy return to Rome Content thee, Prince; I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves Then at my suit look graciously on him; Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, I found a friend; and sure as death I swore I would not part a bachelor from the priest 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 Say, who art thou that lately didst descend Into this gaping hollow of the earth? MARTIUS Shall I speak for thee? Shall I say 'tis so? O, that I knew thy heart, and knew the beast, That I might rail at him to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is [ANDRONICUS lieth down, and the judges pass by him with the prisoners, and exeunt] For these, Tribunes, in the dust I write My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears O gracious Emperor! O gentle Aaron! Did ever raven sing so like a lark That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? With all my heart I'll send the Emperor my hand As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight; Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay Hie to the Goths and raise an army there; And if ye love me, as I think you do, Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do [He gives them the arrows] 'Ad Jovem' that's for you; here 'Ad Apollinem.' 'Ad Martem' that's for myself If Tamora entreat him, then he will; For I can smooth and fill his aged ears With golden promises, that, were his heart Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay; I wrote the letter that thy father found, And hid the gold within that letter mention'd, Confederate with the Queen and her two sons; And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand, And, when I had it, drew myself apart And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter But would it please thee, good Andronicus, To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house; When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the Empress and her sons, The Emperor himself, and all thy foes; And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust, And with your blood and it I'll make a paste; And of the paste a coffin I will rear, And make two pasties of your shameful heads; And bid that strumpet, your unhallowed dam, Like to the earth, swallow her own increase Well, I have told you enough of this; for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no farther But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord, Nothing so full of heart I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow I will not praise thy wisdom, Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines Thy spacious and dilated parts They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one 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 I'll bring her to the Grecian presently; And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus A priest, there off'ring to it his own heart The Grecian youths are full of quality; They're loving, well compos'd with gifts of nature, And flowing o'er with arts and exercise But that's no argument for kissing now; For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument Understand more clear, What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion; But in this extant moment, faith and troth, Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing, Bids thee with most divine integrity, From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk; thou art said to be Achilles' male varlet Exit DIOMEDES Troilus, farewell! One eye yet looks on thee; But with my heart the other eye doth see [HECTOR falls] So, Ilion, fall thou next! Come, Troy, sink down; Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone On, Myrmidons, and cry you an amain 'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.' [A retreat sounded] Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part Dear lad, believe it, For they shall yet belie thy happy years That say thou art a man Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman's part I left no ring with her; what means this lady? Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much That methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly Too old, by heaven! Let still the woman take An elder than herself; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wish'd to see thee ever cross-garter'd Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move That heart which now abhors to like his love She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God he be not bewitched You may have very fit occasion for't; he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart He is indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate; do it quickly Fool, there was never man so notoriously abus'd; I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphis'd me, Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, War with good counsel, set the world at nought; Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought There is no news, my lord; but that he writes How happily he lives, how well-belov'd And daily graced by the Emperor; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear A Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting Launce, away, away, aboard! Thy master is shipp'd, and thou art to post after with oars Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now; I have done penance for contemning Love, Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; For, in revenge of my contempt of love, Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord, And hath so humbled me as I confess There is no woe to his correction, Nor to his service no such joy on earth Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, Yet let her be a principality, Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth I to myself am dearer than a friend; For love is still most precious in itself; And Silvia- witness heaven, that made her fair!- Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope 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 Why, Phaethon- for thou art Merops' son- Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, And with thy daring folly burn the world? Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee? Go, base intruder, over-weening slave, Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates; And think my patience, more than thy desert, Is privilege for thy departure hence Stop there; I'll have her; she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last article Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd, If crooked fortune had not thwarted me Then to Silvia let us sing That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling I do desire thee, even from a heart As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, To bear me company and go with me; If not, to hide what I have said to thee, That I may venture to depart alone The more shame for him that he sends it me; For I have heard him say a thousand times His Julia gave it him at his departure Will go yet? Force me to keep you as a prisoner, Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees When you depart, and save your thanks Hermione, How thou lov'st us show in our brother's welcome; Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap; Next to thyself and my young rover, he's Apparent to my heart If it be so, We need no grave to bury honesty; There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy earth [Exit SERVANT] Fie, fie! no thought of him! The very thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me- in himself too mighty, And in his parties, his alliance Alas, I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman! He is touch'd To th' noble heart What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither Besides, the penitent King, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think so, which is another spur to my departure The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge, For a quart of ale is a dish for a king I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter; I am false of heart that way, and that he knew, I warrant him This is an art Which does mend nature- change it rather; but The art itself is nature And you, enchantment, Worthy enough a herdsman- yea, him too That makes himself, but for our honour therein, Unworthy thee- if ever henceforth thou These rural latches to his entrance open, Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee As thou art tender to't Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you as from your father shall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down; The which shall point you forth at every sitting What you must say, that he shall not perceive But that you have your father's bosom there And speak his very heart If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly; the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster O my brother- Good gentleman!- the wrongs I have done thee stir Afresh within me; and these thy offices, So rarely kind, are as interpreters Of my behind-hand slackness! Welcome hither, As is the spring to th' earth One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angl'd for mine eyes- caught the water, though not the fish- was, when at the relation of the Queen's death, with the manner how she came to't bravely confess'd and lamented by the King, how attentivenes wounded his daughter; till, from one sign of dolour to another, she did with an 'Alas!'- I would fain say- bleed tears; for I am sure my heart wept blood As she liv'd peerless, So her dead likeness, I do well believe, Excels whatever yet you look'd upon Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it Lonely, apart Then all stand still; Or those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart 'So many have, that never touched his hand, Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart 'For further I could say this man's untrue, And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew; Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; Thought characters and words merely but art, And bastards of his foul adulterate heart '"All my offences that abroad you see Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; Love made them not; with acture they may be, Where neither party is nor true nor kind '"Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me, Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood; Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me Of grief and blushes, aptly understood In bloodless white and the encrimsoned mood- Effects of terror and dear modesty, Encamped in hearts, but fighting outwardly '"My parts had pow'r to charm a sacred nun, Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace, Believed her eyes when they t'assail begun, All vows and consecrations giving place, O most potential love, vow, bond, nor space, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, For thou art all, and all things else are thine Quotes for: Shakespeare Quotes
Source: Project Gutenburg Texts
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