William Shakespeare Quotes
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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile.
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Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
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Antonio: Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Sebastian: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.
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Promising is the very air o' th' time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance is ever duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable; performance is a kind of will or testament which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it.
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There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is.
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My heart is ever at your service.
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Lend less than you owe.
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The love of heaven makes one heavenly.
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Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
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Now the time is come, That France must veil her lofty-plumed crest, And let her head fall into England's lap.
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O England! Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a might heart.
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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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The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th' unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
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What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
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There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.
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For grief is crowned with consolation.
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Love's stories written in love's richest books. To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.
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Temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart.
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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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Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
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Hung be the heavens with black! Yield, day, to night!
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Presume not that I am the thing I was.
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Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.