William Shakespeare Quotes
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Some men there are love not a gaping pig, some that are mad if they behold a cat, and others when the bagpipe sings I the nose cannot contain their urine.
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Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.
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She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before he transgressed.
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This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents.
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This act is an ancient tale new told; And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
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For what is wedlock forced but a hell, An age of discord and continual strife? Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, And is a pattern of celestial peace.
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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle.
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Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
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He that dies pays all debts.
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Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt.
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The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
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Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.
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The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and to be King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor.
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I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here, Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear.
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Base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them.
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We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing.
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Are there no stones in heaven But what serves for thunder?
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It is not vain glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber.
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This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
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You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
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O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
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The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure; but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th' bottom of the worst.
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Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.