There might you have beheld one joy crown another, so and in such manner that it seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their joy waded in tears.
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad.
I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul, that presently They have proclaimed their malefactions.
Retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave.
Adriana. With what persuasion did he tempt thy love? Luciana. With words that in an honest suit might move. First he did praise my beauty, then my speech.
What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?
[holds her by the hand, silent] O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome; But, for your son, believe it—O, believe it— Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him.
There's no true drop of blood in him to be truly touched with love; if he be sad, he wants money.
I have been up this hour, awake all night.
As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer.