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I that do bring the news made not the match.
Eno. There I deny my land service. But give me your hand, Menas; if our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kissing.
that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance.
Ant. It is shap’d, sir, like itself, and it is as broad as it hath breadth. It is just so high as it is, and moves with it own organs. It lives by that which nourisheth it, and the elements once out of it, it transmigrates.
For this, I’ll never follow thy pall’d fortunes more. Who seeks, and will not take when once ’tis offer’d, Shall never find it more.
Come, let’s all take hands, Till that the conquering wine hath steep’d our sense In soft and delicate Lethe.
Come, thou monarch of the vine, Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne! In thy fats our cares be drown’d, With thy grapes our hairs be crown’d! Cup us till the world go round, Cup us till the world go round!
You take from me a great part of myself; Use me well in’t. Sister, prove such a wife As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest band Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony, Let not the piece of virtue which is set Betwixt us, as the cement of our love To keep it builded, be the ram to batter The fortress of it; for better might we Have lov’d without this mean, if on both parts This be not cherish’d. Ant. Make me not offended In your distrust. Caes. I have said. Ant. You shall not find,
’Tis better playing with a lion’s whelp Than with an old one dying.
But when we in our viciousness grow hard (O misery on’t!), the wise gods seel our eyes, In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us Adore our errors, laugh at ’s while we strut To our confusion.
The next time I do fight, I’ll make death love me; for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe.
Now he’ll outstare the lightning: 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. When valor [preys on] reason, It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek Some way to leave him.
He calls me boy, and chides as he had power To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger He hath whipt with rods, dares me to personal combat, Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die; mean time Laugh at his challenge.
never anger Made good guard for itself.
Wishers were ever fools—O,
there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.
And strange it is That nature must compel us to lament Our most persisted deeds.
A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity; but you gods will give us Some faults to make us men.
Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep?
Care for us? True indeed! They ne’er car’d for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their store- houses cramm’d with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act establish’d against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there’s all the love they bear us.
He that retires, I’ll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge.
a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.
This must be patch’d With cloth of any color.
His nature is too noble for the world; He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for’s power to thunder. His heart’s his mouth; What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent, And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death.
You might have been enough the man you are, With striving less to be so.
There is differency between a grub and a butterfly, yet your butterfly was a grub.
There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger,
“When we for recompense have prais’d the vild, It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings the good.”
O that men’s ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery!
Feast-won, fast-lost;
Make war breed peace, make peace stint war,
Murther’s as near to lust as flame to smoke;
They do abuse the King that flatter him, For flattery is the bellows blows up sin,
Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard.
Love’s reason’s without reason.
Thersites’ body is as good as Ajax’, When neither are alive.
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. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o’ th’ great, Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat, To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this and come to dust.
Some falls are means the happier to arise.
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer’d.
If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I’ll lie.
The time seems long, their blood thinks scorn Till it fly out and show them princes born.
Keep your cabins; you do assist the storm.
What cares these roarers for the name of king?
Good wombs have borne bad sons.
They are both in either’s pow’rs; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light.—One
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows;
Our revels now are ended.
We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
