William Shakespeare Quotes
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Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.
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Blessings of your heart, you brew good ale.
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All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown. Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
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Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles.
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Scorn, at first, makes after – love the more.
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Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.
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I'll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body: Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost.
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Do all men kill the things they do not love ............ The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
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Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.
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What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
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Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home, And so am come abroad to see the world.
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My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires. Yet filed with my abilities.
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Hardness ever of hardness is mother.
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Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad.
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I love thee; none but thee, and thou deservest it.
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I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered.
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Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
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Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan The outward habit by the inward man.
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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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The time of universal peace is near. Prove this a prosp'rous day, the three-nooked world Shall bear the olive freely.
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Alas, how love can trifle with itself!
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King Henry: But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. Suffolk: No marvel, an it like your majesty, My lord protectors hawks do tower so well; They know their masters loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. Gloucester: My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.
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I that please some, try all, both joy and terror Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error.