William Shakespeare Quotes
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Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
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Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?
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Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurour and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man!
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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
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How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!
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Being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June. Heard, not regarded.
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You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
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When I waked, I cried to dream again
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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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I am a feather for each wind that blows
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
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Do not banish reason for inequality; but let your reason serve to make the truth appear where it seems hid, and hide the false seems true.
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I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
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To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
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There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.
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A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
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Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
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Good wombs have borne bad sons." -- (Miranda, I:2)
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The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes; And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves, Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.
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When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows
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Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
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The icy precepts of respect.
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Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.
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What a fool honesty is.