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English dramatist and poet
(1564 - 1616)
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And mind, with my heart in't; and now farewell
  Till half an hour hence.
      - The Tempest (Miranda at III, i) [Farewell]

Full many a lady
  I have eyed with best regard, and many a time
    Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
      Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues
        Have I liked several women; never any
          With so full soul but some defect in her
            Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed,
              And put it to the foil.
      - The Tempest (Ferdinand at III, i) [Grace]

Hence, bashful cunning,
  And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
      - The Tempest (Miranda at III, i)

I do beseech you,
  Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers,
    What is your name?
      - The Tempest (Ferdinand at III, i)
        [Names : Roses]

No, precious creature;
  I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
    Than you should such dishonor undergo
      While I sit lazy by.
      - The Tempest (Ferdinand at III, i) [Honor]

He that dies pays all debts.
      - The Tempest (Stephano at III, ii) [Death]

Why, thou deboshed fish thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?
      - The Tempest (Trinculo at III, ii)
        [Drinking : Fish]

Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;
  The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,
    The deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounced
      The name of Prosper; it did bass my compass.
      - The Tempest (Alonzo at III, iii) [Thunder]

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
  Of wheat, rye, barley, fetches, oats, and pease;
    Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
      And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep;
        Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
          Which spongy April at thy hest betrims
            To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,
              Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
                Being lasslorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard;
                  And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
                    Where thou thyself dost air--the queen o' th' sky,
                      Whose wat-ry arch and messenger am I,
                        Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,
                          Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
                            To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain.
                              Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
      - The Tempest (Iris at IV, i) [April]

I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
  So full of valor that they smote the air
    For breathing in their faces, beat the ground,
      For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
        Towards their project.
      - The Tempest (Ariel at IV, i)

Leave not a rack behind.
      - The Tempest (Prospero at IV, i) [Proverbs]

Our revels are now ended. These our actors
  As I foretold you, were all spirits and
    Are melted into air, into thin air;
      And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
        The cloud-capped tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
          The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
            Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve,
              And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
                Is rounded with a sleep.
      - The Tempest (Prospero at IV, i) [Visions]

We are such stuff
  As dreams are made on, and our little life
    Is rounded with a sleep.
      - The Tempest (Prospero at IV, i) [Dreams]

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
  Come hither from the furrow and be merry.
    Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on,
      And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
        In country footing.
      - The Tempest (Iris at IV, i) [Holidays]

But this rough magic
  There abjure; and when I have required
    Some heavenly music (which even now I do)
      To work mine end upon their senses that
        This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,
          Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
            And deeper than did ever plummet sound
              I'll drown my book.
      - The Tempest (Prospero at V, i) [Books]

If thou beest Prospero,
  Give us particulars of thy preservation;
    How thou hast met us here, who three hours since
      Were wracked upon this shore; where I have lost
        (How sharp the point of this remembrance is!)
          My dear son Ferdinand.
      - The Tempest (Alonso at V, i) [Memory]

Merrily, merrily shall I live now
  Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
      - The Tempest (Ariel at V, i) [Merriment]

On the bat's back I do fly
  After summer merrily.
      - The Tempest (Ariel at V, i) [Bats]

The charm dissolves apace;
  And as the morning steals upon the night,
    Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
      Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
        Their clearer reason.
      - The Tempest (Prospero at V, i) [Darkness]

Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
  In a cowslip's bell I lie;
    There I couch when owls do cry.
      On the bat's back I do fly
        After summer merrily.
      - The Tempest (Ariel at V, i) [Fairies]

You fools: I and my fellows
  Are ministers of Fate. The elements,
    Of whom your swords are tempered, may as well
      Wound the loud winds, or with bemocked-at stabs
        Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
          One dowle that's in my plume.
      - The Tempest (Ariel at V, ii) [Fate]

Intend some fear;
  Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit;
    And look you get a prayer book in your hand
      And stand between two churchmen, good my lord,
        For on that ground I'll make a holy descant;
          And be not easily won to our requests.
      - The Tragedy of King Henry the Third
         (Buckingham at III, iii) [Worship]

I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
  Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,
    The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
      Which breathed this poison.
      - The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
         (Mowbray at I, i) [Slander]

My dear dear lord,
  The purest treasure mortal times afford
    Is spotless reputation. That away,
      Man are but gilded loam or painted clay.
      - The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
         (Mowbray at I, i) [Reputation]

Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,
  Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
    Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son,
      Here to make good the boist'rous late appeal,
        Which then our leisure would not le us hear,
          Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
      - The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
         (King Richard at I, i)
        [Books (First Lines)]

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