Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I;
I hold him but a fool that will endanger
His body for a girl that loves him not.
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning bedtime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Forgive me, Valentine; if hearty sorrow
Be a sufficient ransom for offence,
I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer
As e'er I did commit.
O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple My master sues to her, and she hath taught her suitor, He being her pupil, to become her tutor. O excellent device was there ever heard a better, That my master, being scribe, to himself should write the letter.
O, heaven be judge how I love Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul!
O Valentine, this I endure for thee!
Thus it stands:
Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd
That, till the father rid his hands of her,
Master, your love must live a maid at home;
And therefore has he closely mew'd her up,
Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors.
Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
And think thee worthy of an empress' love.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
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.
Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. With his mouth full of news. Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
Wish me partaker in thy happiness
When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger,
If ever danger do environ thee,
Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers,
For I will be thy headsman, Valentine.
And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.
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.
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca;
And her withholds from me, and other more,
Suitors to her and rivals in my love;
Supposing it a thing impossible-
For those defects I have before rehears'd-
That ever Katherina will be woo'd.
More William Shakespeare Quotations (Based on Topics)
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