William Shakespeare Quotes
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I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew, Than one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd, Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree, And that would set my teeth nothing an edge, Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie.
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Coward dogs most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten runs far before them.
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For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
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If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
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There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't
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The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
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This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.
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A good heart 'is worth gold.
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Nimble thought can jump both sea and land.
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Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
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We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.
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Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
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Scorn, at first, makes after – love the more.
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Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.
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What else may hap, to time I will commit.
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The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company.
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Anger's my meat. I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding.
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When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face?
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I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
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The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.
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Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.
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My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
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The end crowns all, And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it.
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And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.