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5 Cards in this Set
- Front
- Back
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How all occasions do inform against me,
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? A beast, no more. |
Sure, he that made up with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be |
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Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know |
Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;'
Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me: Witness this army of such mass and charge |
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Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd Makes mouths at the invisible event, Exposing what is mortal and unsure |
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare,
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw |
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When honor's at the stake. How stand I then,
That to have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep? While, to my shame, I see |
The imminent death of twenty thousand men,
That, for a fantasy and a trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereupon the numbers cannot try the cause, |
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Which is not tomb enough and continent
To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! |
End!
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