William Shakespeare on Cowardice
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“Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age And twit with cowardice a man half dead?”
“That which in mean men we entitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.”
“Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.”
“What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight!”
“Muster your wits: stand in your own defence; Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.”
“You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat!”
“I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love.”
“Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this, for it will come to pass That every braggart shall be found an ass.”
“Dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.”
“Milk-liver'd man! That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs, Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honor from thy suffering.”
“Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting "I dare not" wait upon, "I would"; Like the poor cat i' the adage?”
“So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench Are from their hives and houses driven away. They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs; Now like to whelps, we crying run away.”
“How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk.”
“So cowards fight when they can fly no further; As doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.”
“By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!—I afear'd of him!—A very weak monster!—The man i' the moon!—A most poor, credulous monster!—Well drawn, monster, in good sooth!”