William Shakespeare Quotes
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I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is.
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Discuss unto me: art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular?
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For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all
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Some there be that shadows kiss; Such have but a shadow's bliss.
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As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below.
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She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.
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This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.
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Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile; Filths savour but themselves.
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I that please some, try all, both joy and terror Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error.
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A wicked conscience mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
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My cousin's a fool, and thou art another.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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I'll forbear; And am fallen out with my more headier will To take the indisposed and sickly fit For the sound man.
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for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)
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Such thanks as fits a king's remembrance.
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What a piece of work is a man
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The golden age is before us, not behind us.
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O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest - A dammed saint, an honourable villain!
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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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My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.
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Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
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The morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness.
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At once, good night- Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.
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One sin, I know, another doth provoke. Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke.