Search & Filter Quotes and Notes

Cressida
And is it true that I must go from Troy?
Troilus
A hateful truth.
Cressida
What, and from Troilus too?
Troilus
From Troy and Troilus.
Cressida
Is ‘t possible?

We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
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Tranio, as Lucentio
And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?
Gremio
A bridegroom, say you? ’Tis a groom indeed,
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
Tranio, as Lucentio
Curster than she? Why, ’tis impossible.
Gremio
Why, he’s a devil,
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Gratiano
And it is marvel he outdwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.
Salarino
O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly
To seal love's bonds new-made than they are wont
To keep obligèd faith unforfeited.
Gratiano
That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?
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Cassius
And let us swear our resolution.
Marcus Brutus
No, not an oath!Anapodoton If not the face of men,
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuseIsocolon—
If these be motives weakAnastrophe, break off betimes,
And every man hence to his idle bed;
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Arviragus
And let us, Polydore, though now our voices
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to th' ground,
As once to our mother; use like note and words,
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele.
Guiderius
Cadwal,
I cannot sing. I'll weep, and word it with thee;
For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse
Than priests and fanes that lie.
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And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring of love thy love-springs rot?
Shall love, in building,  grow so ruinous?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness.
Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth —
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness.
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King Lear
And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life?
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou ‘lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never.—
Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
Look there,
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King Claudius
And now, Laertes, what’s the news with you?
You told us of some suit. What is ’t, Laertes?
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane
And lose your voice. What wouldst thou beg, Laertes,
That shall not be my offer, not thy asking?
The head is not more native to the heart,
The hand more instrumental to the mouth,
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Hortensio
And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale
Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?
Petruchio
Such wind as scatters young men through the world
To seek their fortunes farther than at home,
Where small experience grows. But in a few,
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:
Antonio, my father,
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Paris
And tell me, noble Diomed, faith, tell me true,
Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship,
Who, in your thoughts, deserves fair Helen best,
Myself or Menelaus?
Diomedes
Both alike.
He merits well to have her that doth seek her,
Not making any scruple of her soilure,
With such a hell of pain and world of charge;
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Cloten
And that she should love this fellow and
refuse me!
Second Lord, aside
If it be a sin to make a true election,
she is damned.

She shines not upon fools, lest
the reflection should hurt her.

First Lord
Sir, as I told you always,
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And the new deputy now for the Duke—
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,
Or whether that the body public be
A horse whereon the governor doth ride,
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
Whether the tyranny be in his place,
Or in his eminence that fills it up,
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And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
For lack of tread, are undistinguishable.
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And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.
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And thorough this distemperature, we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set; the spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter, change
Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world,
By their increase,
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And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
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First Roman Citizen
And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude.
Third Roman Citizen
We have been call'd so of many, not that our heads are some brown, some black, some abram, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely color'd;
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And what's he, then, that says I play the villain,
When this advice is free I give and honest,
Probal to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy
Th' inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit. She's framed as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor— were ‘t to renounce his baptism,
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And why should Caesar be a tyrant then?
Poor man, I know he would not be a wolf,
But that he sees the Romans are but sheep;
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds.
Those that with haste will make a mighty fire
Begin it with weak straws.Metaphors What trash is Rome?
What rubbish and what offal?
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And yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days.
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