William Shakespeare Quotes
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Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands, But more when envy breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.
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Men at some time are masters of their fates.
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That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.
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The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
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Let me confess that we two must be twain, although our undivided loves are one.
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Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side
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Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
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O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, (135) Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: (140) So excellent a king; that was, to this.
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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
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GLOUCESTER: I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night: I thank my God for my humility.
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Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot.
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Experience teacheth that resolution is a sole help in need.
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Mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust.
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For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye're so slight.
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Every fair from fair sometime declines
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It is held that valor is the chiefest virtue, and most dignifies the haver.
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They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?
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Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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Hast any philosophy in thee shepherd? .• • • • . . . He that wants money, means and content, is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.
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The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.
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Our jovial star reigned at his birth.
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But I will be, A bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a lover's bed.