William Shakespeare Quotes
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Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.
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Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
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Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
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Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
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Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.
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Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
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A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable spirit; which you have not: a beard neglected; which you have not: — but I pardon you for that; for, simply, your having1 in beard is a younger brother's revenue: — Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation.
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Ay, but to die and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstrution and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world.
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Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief
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Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
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You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
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And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
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I rather would entreat thy company; To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
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Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
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Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.
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Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
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Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
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So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone.
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To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
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Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart will be found an ass.
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Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings.
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How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!
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Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.
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Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.