William Shakespeare Quotes
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Now no way can I stray; Save back to England, all the world's my way.
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Tam: What begg’st thou then? fond woman, let me go. Lav: ’Tis present death I beg; and one thing more That womanhood denies my tongue to tell. O! keep me from their worse than killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit, Where never man’s eye may behold my body: Do this, and be a charitable murderer. Tam: So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. Dem: Away! for thou hast stay’d us here too long. Lav: No grace! no womanhood! Ah, beastly creature, The blot and enemy to our general name. Confusion fall—
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I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.
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If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
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Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan The outward habit by the inward man.
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I wonder men dare trust themselves with men.
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Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon.
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Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
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Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.
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But Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me?" Catherine: "I cannot tell." Henry: "Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them.
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Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form
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Coward dogs most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten runs far before them.
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Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.
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If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustomed spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
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You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.
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One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish like enchanting harmony.
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O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip Hath virgined it e'er since.
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A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.
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Then to Silvia let us sing that Silvia is excelling. She excels each mortal thing upon the dull earth dwelling.
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Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.