Best 7 quotes of James Shirley on MyQuotes

Death lays his icy hand on kings.

How little room Do we take up in death, that, living, know No bounds!

Knaves will thrive when honest plainness knows not how to live.

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

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 armor against fate.

When our souls shall leave this dwelling, the glory of one fair and virtuous action is above all the 'scutcheons on our tomb, or silken banners over us.