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Within the infant rind of this weak flower Poison hath residence and medicine power;
Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff’d brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art up-rous’d with some distemp’rature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right— Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night.
So soon forsaken? Young men’s love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Women may fall, when there’s no strength in men.
I pray thee chide me not. Her I love now Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; The other did not so.
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, Misshapen in the conduct of them both, Like powder in a skilless soldier’s flask, Is set afire by thine own ignorance, And thou dismemb’red with thine own defense.
Evermore weeping for your cousin’s death? What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? And if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; Therefore have done. Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
What must be shall be.
’tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers;
My poverty, but not my will, consents.
Let me have men about me that are fat, Sleek-headed men and such as sleep a-nights. Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look, He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Th’ abuse of greatness is when it disjoins Remorse from power;
But ’tis a common proof That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend.
And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg, Which, hatch’d, would as his kind grow mischievous, And kill him in the shell.
And for Mark Antony, think not of him; For he can do no more than Caesar’s arm When Caesar’s head is off.
I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betray’d with trees, And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers; But when I tell him he hates flatterers He says he does, being then most flattered.
When beggars die there are no comets seen; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Cowards die many times before their deaths, The valiant never taste of death but once.
I could be well mov’d, if I were as you; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me; But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix’d and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumb’red sparks, They are all fire, and every one doth shine; But there’s but one in all doth hold his place. So in the world: ’tis furnish’d well with men, And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; Yet in the number I do know but one That unassailable holds on his rank, Unshak’d of motion; and that I am he,
Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war,
most unkindest cut of all;
Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm’d so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Bru. A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus.
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.
Good reasons must of force give place to better: The people ’twixt Philippi and this ground Do stand but in a forc’d affection, For they have grudg’d us contribution. The enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number up, Come on refresh’d, new-added, and encourag’d; From which advantage shall we cut him off If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our back.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.
Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. O hateful error, melancholy’s child, Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O error, soon conceiv’d, Thou never com’st unto a happy birth, But kill’st the mother that engend’red thee!
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Frailty, thy name is woman!—
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice, Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Neither a borrower nor a lender [be], For [loan] oft loses both itself and friend,
This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
“Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.
yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward.
What [a] piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and admirable in action, how like an angel in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world; the paragon of animals; and yet to me what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me—nor women neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
Jephthah,
He swore if victorious in battle to sacrifice the first thing he found when he came home. Similar plots appear in fairy tales.
To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing, end them.
To die, to sleep— To sleep, perchance to dream—ay,
what dreams may come,
The undiscover’d country,
Thus conscience does make cowards [of us all],
Madness in great ones must not [unwatch’d] go.
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend, For who not needs shall never lack a friend, And who in want a hollow friend doth try, Directly seasons him his enemy.
Queen. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
“To-morrow is Saint Valentine’s day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine. 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.”
