I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
Let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives,
Our children, and our sins, lay on the King!
Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep;
Dream of success and happy victory.
He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation;
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
But meditating with two deep divines;
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
And then for her
To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love,
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the god
With his weak function.
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, Like to a tenement or pelting farm England, bound in with the triumphant sea Whose rocky shore beats back the envi
GLOUCESTER I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night I thank my God for my humility.
Learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream;
From which awak'd, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim Necessity; and he and
Will keep a league till death.
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent
In dangerous wars whilst you securely slept;
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed,
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd,
And for these bitter tears, which now you see
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks,
Be pitiful to my condemned sons,
Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought.
I count myself in nothing else so happy As in a soul remembering my good friends.
O, heaven be judge how I love Valentine,
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul!
I prithee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow.
I never did repent for doing good,
Nor shall not now; for in companions
That do converse and waste the time together,
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love,
There must be needs a like proportion
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit,
Which makes me think that this Antonio,
Being the bosom lover of my lord,
Must needs be like my lord.
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
My sinful earth these rebel powers array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a
man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my
duty, and my live, and my living, and my uttermost power.
O, then began the tempest to my soul!
My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
Upon my soul, they shall.
Thou art a soul in bliss but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure
I count myself in nothing else so happy
As in a soul rememb'ring my good friends;
And as my fortune ripens with thy love,
It shall be still thy true love's recompense.
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.
Brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes.
When delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension.
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.
Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you;
And though you know my inwardness and love
Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio,
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this
As secretly and justly as your soul
Should with your body.
O God, I have an ill-divining soul!
Go, go, poor soul; I envy not thy glory.
Gold is worse poison to a man's soul, doing more murders in this loathsome world, than any mortal drug.
I promise you my soul is very jocund
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.
Every subject's duty is the king's but every subject's soul is his own.
My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and
down the town that her eldest son is like you.
Within this wall of flesh
There is a soul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love;
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Oh it offends me to the soul to hear a robust periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings.
By the apostle Paul, shadows tonight Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast;
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry.
FIRST CITIZEN Come, come, we fear the worst all shall be well. THIRD CITIZEN When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand When the sun sets, who doth not look for night Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. All my be well but if God sort it so. Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. SECOND CITIZEN Truly, the souls of men are full of dread Ye cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of fear. THIRD CITIZEN Before the times of change, still is it so By a divine instinct mens minds distrust Ensuing dangers as, by proof, we see The waters swell before a boisterous storm.
If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
And of all Christian souls, I pray God.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
And all my soul, and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul!
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul,
My soul the father; and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world,
In humours like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented.
That thou dost love my daughter from
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul.
Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile;
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands;
The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her,
Tell her I hold as giddily as Fortune;
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems
That Nature pranks her in attracts my soul.
More William Shakespeare Quotations (Based on Topics)
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