‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [109]
Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I am not of your element.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [138]
If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [142]
More matter for a May morning.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [158]
Still you keep o’ the windy side of the law.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [183]
Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine, but my hope is better; and so look to thyself.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [185]
Nay, let me alone for swearing.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [204]
He is knight dubbed with unhatched rapier, and on carpet consideration.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [260]
I am one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight; I care not who knows so much of my mettle.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [300]
I hate ingratitude more in a man
Than lying, vainness, babbling drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [390]
In nature there’s no blemish but the mind; None can be called deformed but the unkind.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 3, sc. 4, l. [403]
Out, hyperbolical fiend!
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 4, sc. 2, l. [29]
For I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 4, sc. 2, l. [37]
Clown: What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? Malvolio: That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. Clown: What thinkest thou of his opinion?
Malvolio: I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 4, sc. 2, l. [55]
Leave thy vain bibble-babble.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 4, sc. 2, l. [106]
We took him for a coward, but he’s the very devil incardinate.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 5, sc. 1, l. [185]
Why have you suffered me to be imprisoned, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck and gull That e’er invention played on? Tell me why.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 5, sc. 1, l. [353]
Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 5, sc. 1, l. [388]
I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 5, sc. 1, l. [390]
When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain; A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came to man’s estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
’Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gates, For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came, alas! to wive,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
By swaggering could I never thrive,
For the rain it raineth every day.
But when I came unto my beds,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain;
With toss-pots still had drunken heads,
For the rain it raineth every day.
A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain; But that’s all one, our play is done,
And we’ll strive to please you every day.
‘Twelfth Night’ (1601) act 5, sc. 1, l. [401]
7.66.36 The Two Gentlemen Of Verona
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 1, sc. 1, l. 2
He was more than over shoes in love.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 1, sc. 1, l. 24
I have no other but a woman’s reason: I think him so, because I think him so.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 1, sc. 2, l. 23
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse And presently all humbled kiss the rod!
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 1, sc. 2, l. 55
O! how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away!
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 1, sc. 3, l. 84
Or as one nail by strength drives out another, So the remembrance of my former love
Is by a newer object quite forgotten.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 2, sc. 4, l. 194
Except I be by Silvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale; Unless I look on Silvia in the day, There is no day for me to look upon.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 3, sc. 1, l. 178
Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 3, sc. 2, l. 71
Who is Sylvia? what is she,
That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she;
The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admiréd be.
Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness;
And, being helped, inhabits there.
Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing
Upon the dull earth dwelling; To her let us garlands bring.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 4, sc. 2, l. 40
How use doth breed a habit in man!
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 5, sc. 4, l. 1
O heaven! were man
But constant, he were perfect.
‘The Two Gentlemen Of Verona’ (1592-3) act 5, sc. 4, l. 110
7.66.37 The Winter’s Tale
We were, fair queen,
Two lads that thought there was no more behind But such a day to-morrow as to-day,
And to be boy eternal.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 1, sc. 2, l. 62
We were as twinned lambs that did frisk i’ the sun, And bleat the one at the other: what we changed Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dreamed That any did.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 1, sc. 2, l. 67
But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, As now they are, and making practised smiles, As in a looking-glass.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 1, sc. 2, l. 116
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This squash, this gentleman.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 1, sc. 2, l. 160
Make that thy question, and go rot!
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 1, sc. 2, l. 324
A sad tale’s best for winter.
I have one of sprites and goblins.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 2, sc. 1, l. 24
It is a heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in ’t.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 2, sc. 3, l. 114
I am a feather for each wind that blows.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 2, sc. 3, l. 153
What’s gone and what’s past help Should be past grief.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 3, sc. 2, l. [223]
Exit, pursued by a bear.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 3, sc. 3, stage direction
When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy, over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year; For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale.
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.
The lark, that tirra-lirra chants,
With, heigh! with, heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 2, l. 1
My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 2, l. [24]
For the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 2, l. [30]
Prig, for my life, prig; he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 2, l. [109]
Jog on, jog on the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 2, l. [133]
For you there’s rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. 74
The fairest flowers o’ the season
Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, Which some call nature’s bastards.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. 81
I’ll not put
The dibble in earth to set one slip of them.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. 99
Here’s flowers for you;
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi’ the sun, And with him rises weeping.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. 103
O Proserpina!
For the flowers now that frighted thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes
Or Cytherea’s breath; pale prime-roses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength,—a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. 116
Perdita: Sure this robe of mine Doth change my disposition. Florizel: What you do
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I’d have you do it ever: when you sing,
I’d have you buy and sell so; so give alms; Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you A wave o’ the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move still, still so,
And own no other function: each your doing, So singular in each particular,
Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, That all your acts are queens.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. 134
Good sooth, she is
The queen of curds and cream.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. 160
Lawn as white as driven snow.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [220]
I love a ballad in print, a-life, for then we are sure they are true.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [262]
The self-same sun that shines upon his court Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [457]
Being now awake, I’ll queen it no inch further, But milk my ewes and weep.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [462]
Prosperity’s the very bond of love,
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affliction alters.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [586]
Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman!
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [608]
Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [734]
I will but look upon the hedge and follow you.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 4, sc. 3, l. [862]
Stars, stars!
And all eyes else dead coals.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 5, sc. 1, l. 67
Still, methinks,
There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel Could ever yet cut breath?
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 5, sc. 3, l. 77
O! she’s warm.
If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.
‘The Winter’s Tale’ (1610-1) act 5, sc. 3, l. 109
7.66.38 The Passionate Pilgrim
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care.
‘The Passionate Pilgrim’ (1599), 12
Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
‘The Passionate Pilgrim’ (1599), 12
7.66.39 The Rape Of Lucrece
What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours.
‘The Rape Of Lucrece’ (1594) dedication
Beauty itself doth of itself persuade The eyes of men without an orator.
‘The Rape Of Lucrece’ (1594) l. 29
Who buys a minute’s mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
‘The Rape Of Lucrece’ (1594) l. 213
Time’s glory is to calm contending kings,
To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light.
‘The Rape Of Lucrece’ (1594) l. 939
And now this pale swan in her watery nest Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending.
‘The Rape Of Lucrece’ (1594) l. 1611
7.66.40 Sonnets
To the onlie begetter of these insuing sonnets, Mr. W.H.
‘Sonnets’ (1609) dedication (also attributed to Thomas Thorpe)
From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty’s rose might never die.
Sonnet 1
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field.
Sonnet 2
Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
Sonnet 3
Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: Why 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.
Sonnet 8
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves, Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard.
Sonnet 12
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.’ So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights be termed a poet’s rage
And stretchéd metre of an antique song.
Sonnet 17
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Sonnet 18
My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date; But when in thee time’s furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate.
Sonnet 22
As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put beside his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart; So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love’s rite.
Sonnet 23
O! let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast.
Sonnet 23
The painful warrior famouséd for fight, After a thousand victories once foiled, Is from the book of honour razéd quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d.
Sonnet 25
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired.
Sonnet 27
When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope, With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee,—and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Sonnet 29
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear times’ waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh love’s long since cancelled woe, And moan the expense of many a vanished sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Sonnet 30
Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.
Sonnet 33
But, out! alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath masked him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven’s sun staineth.
Sonnet 33
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak
