His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to it.

For by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night, By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist and cease to be—

The bow is bent and drawn. Make from the shaft.

She is herself a dowry.

The jewels of our father, with washed eyes Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are,

Thou, nature, art my goddess. To thy law My services are bound.

Sir, I do love you more than words can wield the matter, Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty,

Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.—

I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.

What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let’s see.—Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us.

This is the excellent foppery of the world

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit.

Idle old man That still would manage those authorities That he hath given away!

I other accents borrow, That can my speech diffuse

Truth’s a dog that must to kennel. He must be whipped out, when Lady Brach may stand by th' fire and stink.

LEAR QUOTATION CHALLENGE

Nothing can be made out of nothing.

Nature in you stands on the very verge Of his confine.

Thou better know’st The offices of nature, bond of childhood, Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude

My tears begin to take his part so much, They’ll mar my counterfeiting.

Because I would not see thy cruèl nails Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. The sea, with such a storm as his bare head In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up, And quenched the stellèd fires. Yet poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.

We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage.

Neither can be enjoyed If both remain alive.

If you miscarry, Your business of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases. Fortune love you.

Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes.