Love's Labour's Lost Quotes
She might ha' been a grandam ere she died: Notes on Shakespeare's Songs Not surprisingly, Shakespeare alludes to or includes the text of well over one hundred songs in his works. Music was an integral part of Elizabethan life, as it is today.
London publishers were constantly producing broadside ballads, madrigals, and consort pieces, and most educated people could read music and play a tune on a recorder, lute, or viola da gamba. Shakespeare's characters are a reflection of his times and they too depend on music for moments of comedy and poignancy, whether it be a drunken sing-along at a crowded table, or a gloomy rhyme borne out of love's disillusionment.
In Thomas Thorpe published Shakespeare's sonnets, no doubt without the author's permission, in quarto format, along with Shakespeare's long poem, The Passionate Pilgrim.
I only swore to study with your grace And stay here in your court for three years' space. What is the end of study? As thus,--to study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid; Or study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid; Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, Study to break it and not break my troth. If study's gain be thus and this be so, Study knows that which yet it doth not know: Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.
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As, painfully to pore upon a book To seek the light of truth; while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. Study me how to please the eye indeed By fixing it upon a fairer eye, Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed And give him light that it was blinded by. Study is like the heaven's glorious sun That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks: Small have continual plodders ever won Save base authority from others' books These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights That give a name to every fixed star Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
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Too much to know is to know nought but fame; And every godfather can give a name. Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
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At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; But like of each thing that in season grows.