I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?
I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!
Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
The world is but a word.Were it all yours to give it in a breath,How quickly were it gone
O, how full of briers is this working-day world.
O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days-
So full of dismal terror was the time!
How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be:
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
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.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
O, what a world of vile ill-favoured faults, Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year.
None in the world; nor do I know the man.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.
I 'gin to grow aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
We pray you throw to earth
This unprevailing woe, and think of us
As of a father; for let the world take note
You are the most immediate to our throne,
And with no less nobility of love
Than that which dearest father bears his son
Do I impart toward you.
Fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
O world, world thus is the poor agent despised. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited Why should our endeavor be so loved, and the performance so loathed.
None in the world; but return with an invention, and
clap upon you two or three probable lies.
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
O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having....
So shines a good deed in a weary world.
We came into the world like brother and brother; And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change;
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
This is the excellent foppery of the world that when we are sick in fortune -- often the surfeits of our own behavior -- we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars, as if we were villains on necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star.
There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world.
Fortune reigns in gifts of the world.
That I might see what the old world could say
To this composèd wonder of your frame;
Whether we are mended, or whe'er better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.
Beyond all limit of what else i' th' world,
Do love, prize, honour you.
The greater cantle of the world is lost
With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away
Kingdoms and provinces.
In the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty
Though it pass your patience and mine to
endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the
world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all
faults, and money enough.
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss.
But I remember now
I am in this earthly world, where to do harm
Is often laudable, to do good sometime
Accounted dangerous folly.
My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead.
Some must watch, while some must sleep So runs the world away.
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought.
I care not, I, knew she and all the world:
I love Lavinia more than all the world.
There shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms
That blinking Cupid gossips.
Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally, I would we could do so for her benefits are mightily misplaced and the bountiful blind girl doth most mistake in her gifts to women. 'Tis true for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly. Nay, now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures. Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity; Under the smile of safety wounds the world.
Gold is worse poison to a man's soul, doing more murders in this loathsome world, than any mortal drug.
It is the
greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and
aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: if you
would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great,
you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle-taddle nor
pibble-pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, you shall find the
ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it,
and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.
He was to imagine me his
love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me; at which
time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate,
changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish,
shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every
passion something and for no passion truly anything, as boys and
women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like
him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now
weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his
mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to
forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook
Appear it to your mind
That, through the sight I bear in things to come,
I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
Incurr'd a traitor's name, expos'd myself
From certain and possess'd conveniences
To doubtful fortunes, sequest'ring from me all
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
And here, to do you service, am become
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted-
I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit
Out of those many regist'red in promise,
Which you say live to come in my behalf.
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one.
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.