Imatges de pÓgina

Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow:
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage :
Thy word is current with him for my death,
But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.

These dangerous unsafe lunes o' the king! bestrew them!

He must be told on 't, and he shall; the office
Becomes a woman best: I'll take 't upon me :
If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister.

What have kings
That privates have not tɔo, save ceremony?

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,
Hath the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil;
And, for unfelt imaginations,

They often feel a world of restless cares;

So that, between their titles, and low name,
There is nothing differs but the outward fame.


O, a kiss

Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip
Hath virgin'd it e'er since.

Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.


When first this order was ordain'd, my Lords,
Knights of the garter were of noble birth;
Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage,
Such as were grown to credit by the wars;
Not fearing death, nor shrinking from distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.

Well, now can I make any Joan a lady :-
Good den, Sir Richard,-God-a-mercy, fellow;-
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter:
For new made honour doth forget men's names.


The charm dissolves apace;

And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason.



We must not make a scare-crow of the law,

Setting it up to fear the birds of


And let it keep one shape, till custom make it

Their perch, and not their terror.

There is no power in Venice

Can alter a decree established:

'Twill be recorded for a precedent;
And many an error, by the same example,
Will rush into the state: it cannot be.



We have strict statutes, and most biting laws,
(The needful bits and curbs to head-strong steeds,)
Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep;
Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave,

That goes not out to prey.

Our decrees,

Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
And liberty plucks justice by the nose.

Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud.
It pleases time, and fortune, to lie heavy
Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood,
Hath stept into the law, which is past depth
To those that without heed do plunge into it.


Hear him but reason in divinity,

And, all-admiring, with an inward wish,

You would desire the king were made a prelate.

List his discourse of war, and you shall hear

A fearful battle render'd in music :


Turn him to any cause of policy,

The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,
Familiar as his garter.

This fellow's of exceeding honesty,

And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit,
Of human dealings.


Sirrah, your brother is legitimate;

Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him :
And if she did play false, the fault was hers;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wives.


Let us see

Leave, gentle wax; and manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts;
Their papers, is more lawful.

Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
That ever blotted paper!

Read o'er this:

And after, this and then to breakfast, with

What appetite you have.

Why, how now, gentlemen!

What see you in those papers that you lose

So much complexion? look ye, how they change! Their cheeks are paper.-Why, what read you there, That hath so cowarded and chas'd

your blood,

Out of appearance?


Out, out, brief candle,

Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty space from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.

The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve!

And, like an insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him:
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost;
And,—when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a ripening,-nips his root,
And then he falls as I do.

O Gentlemen, the time of life is short:
To spend that shortness basely, 'twere too long,
Tho' life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at th' arrival of an hour.


The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,

And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage

To be o'erpow'r'd.

What, shall they seek the lion in his den ?

And fright him there; and make him tremble there? O, let it not be said.

A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

Lay couching, head on ground, with cat-like watch, When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis The royal disposition of that beast,


prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.

So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
That trembles under his destroying paws :
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey;
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.


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