Quotes from James Shirley

Only the actions of the justSmell sweet and blossom in their dust.

The glories of our blood and stateAre shadows, not substantial things;There is no armor against fate;Death lays his icy hand on kings.

How little roomDo we take up in death that, living, knowNo bounds!

Only the actions of the just, Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.

There is no armor against fate.

There is no armor against fate; death lays his icy hands on kings.

The glories of our blood and state, Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate, Death lays his icy hand on kings. Scepter and crown must tumble down, And, in the dust, be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

There is no armour against fate; death lays his icy hands on kings.

Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.

The honor is overpaid, When he that did the act is commentator.