Names

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.Adynaton & Simile

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Men at some time are masters of their fates;
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Countess
You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
Helen
Mine honorable mistress.

I know I love in vain, strive against hope,
Yet in this captious and intenible sieve
I still pour in the waters of my love

Countess
Nay, a mother.
Why not a mother? When I said “a mother,”
Methought you saw a serpent.
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Juliet
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet

Romeo, aside
Shall I hear more,
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Helen, to Bertram 
I dare not say I take you, but I give
Me and my service ever whilst I live
Into your guiding power.—This is the man.
King
Why then, young Bertram, take her. She’s thy wife.
Bertram 
My wife, my liege? I shall beseech your Highness
In such a business give me leave to use
The help of mine own eyes.
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Countess 
Alas! And would you take the letter of her?
Might you not know she would do as she has done
By sending me a letter? Read it again.

Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words!

Steward reads the  letter
I am Saint Jaques’ pilgrim, thither gone.
Ambitious love hath so in me offended
That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon,
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Northumberland
My lord, dispatch. Read o’er these articles.
King Richard
Mine eyes are full of tears; I cannot see.
And yet salt water blinds them not so much
But they can see a sort of traitors here.

O, that I were a mockery king of snow
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water drops.
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Falstaff
What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are
you, and of what place, I pray?
Colevile
I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of
the Dale.
Falstaff
Well then, Colevile is your name, a knight is
your degree, and your place the Dale. Colevile shall
be still your name,
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