I, that with my sword
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
I am conqueror of myself.
I, that with my sword
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
I am conqueror of myself.
The better part of valor is discretion.
But, Roderigo, if thou hast that
in thee indeed, which I have greater reason to believe now than
ever, I mean purpose, courage, and valor, this night show it; if
thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from
this world with treachery and devise engines for my life.
O, courage, courage, courage, Princes!
They could be content
To visit other places, and come down
With fearful bravery, thinking by this face
To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage;
But 'tis not so.
The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is dead That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Boldness be my friend.
Brave conquerors for so you are That war against your own affections, And the huge army of the world's desires.
In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie
Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,
Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
There
is tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor,
and death for his ambition.
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.
What, courage, man What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
Advance our standards, set upon our foes;
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
What's brave, what's noble,Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,And make death proud to take us.
I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France,
I thought King Henry had resembled thee
In courage, courtship, and proportion;
But all his mind is bent to holiness,
To number Ave-Maries on his beads;
His champions are the prophets and apostles;
His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ;
His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves
Are brazen images of canonized saints.
Be brave, then, for your captain is brave, and vows
reformation.
There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them, but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways.
In a false quarrel there is no true valor.
That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud and
loves not the common people.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories