William Shakespeare Quotes
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Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
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Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
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To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
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You have witchcraft in your lips, there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs.
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Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As mans ingratitude Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho sing, heigh-ho unto the green holly Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. Then heigh-ho the holly This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend rememberd not.
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Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!
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O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world.
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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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Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.
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I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
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Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead!
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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile standing-tuck!
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Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.
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Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
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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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To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
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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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Strikes deeper, grows with more pernicious root.
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Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.
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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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I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
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Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
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I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.