I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace; and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.
William ShakespeareThis music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.
More of your conversation would infect my brain.
William ShakespeareStichwörter: humour conversation
There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is.
William ShakespeareMa la virilità si è tutta smammolata in coccolette; il coraggio svaporato in complimenti, e gli uomini sono diventati tutti lingua, come dei pappagalli ammaestrati. Oggi è più valente di un Ercole chi sa meglio mentire e spergiurare. Non posso diventare uomo di mia volontà, e allora morirò donna per disperazione.
William ShakespeareStichwörter: comedy theatre-quotations
O that I were a mockery king of snow
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke
To melt myself away in water drops!
No deeper wrinkles yet?
Hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine
And made no deeper wounds?
I'll read enough
When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
Give me that glass and therein will I read.
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine
And made no deeper wounds?
O flattering glass,
Like to my followers in prosperity
Thou dost beguile me!
Stichwörter: sorrow reflection flattery
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wondered at...
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,
Heard, not regarded--seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze.
Leben ist nur ein wandelnd Schattenbild;
Ein armer Komödiant, der spreizt und knirscht
Sein Stündchen auf der Bühn' und dann nicht mehr
Vernommen wird; ein Märchen ist's, erzählt
Von einem Dummkopf voller Klang und Wut,
Das nichts bedeutet.
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