William Shakespeare Quotes
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I wish you well and so I take my leave, I Pray you know me when we meet again.
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My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows, I am roughand lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
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Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things. [Act 5, Scene 2]
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
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I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
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Being of no power to make his wishes good: His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes For every word.
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Come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.
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A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing.
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Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
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From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
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You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
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I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.
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There's many a man hath more hair than wit.
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For so work the honey bees, creatures that by a rule in nature teach the act of order to a peopled kingdom.
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Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction * * * I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience.
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All the world's a stage.
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Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering.
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And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire, The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmasks her beauty to the moon.
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O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
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[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.
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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
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I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!
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Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee!