John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
William Shakespeare 1564-1616 Cymbeline John Bartlett 1919 Familiar Quotations
| 1 | |
| Lest the bargain should catch cold and starve. | |
| Cymbeline. Act i. Sc. 4. | |
| 2 | |
| Hath his bellyful of fighting. | |
| Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 1. | |
| 3 | |
| How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily. | |
| Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 2. | |
| 4 | |
| The most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. | |
| Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 3. | |
| 5 | |
| Hark, hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, And Phœbus ’gins arise, 1 His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise. | |
| Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 3. | |
| 6 | |
| As chaste as unsunn’d snow. | |
| Cymbeline. Act ii. Sc. 5. | |
| 7 | |
| Some griefs are medicinable. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 2. | |
| 8 | |
| Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 3. | |
| 9 | |
| So slippery that The fear ’s as bad as falling. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 3. | |
| 10 | |
| The game is up. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 3. | |
| 11 | |
| No, ’t is slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4. | |
| 12 | |
| Some jay of Italy, Whose mother was her painting, hath betray’d him: Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4. | |
| 13 | |
| It is no act of common passage, but A strain of rareness. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4. | |
| 14 | |
| I have not slept one wink. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4. | |
| 15 | |
| Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 4. | |
| 16 | |
| Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 6. | |
| 17 | |
| An angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon! | |
| Cymbeline. Act iii. Sc. 6. | |
| 18 | |
| Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iv. Sc. 2. | |
| 19 | |
| And put My clouted brogues from off my feet. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iv. Sc. 2. | |
| 20 | |
| Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. | |
| Cymbeline. Act iv. Sc. 2. | |
| 21 | |
| O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker. You call’d me brother When I was but your sister. | |
| Cymbeline. Act v. Sc. 5. |
| Note 1. See Lyly, Quotation 2. [back] |