William Shakespeare Quotes
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Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.
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God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.
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I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand As is a man were author of himself And knew no other kin.
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This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,--This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
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Small things make base men proud.
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Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well, Of one not easily jealous but, being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinable gum. Set you down this, And say besides that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by th' throat the circumcised dog And smote him thus.
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To be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
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The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night.
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Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.
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An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
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A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
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O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart."-Helena
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Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn.
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Every man has his fault, and honesty is his.
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All things are ready, if our mind be so.
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Now, good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both!
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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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Vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself.
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Can it be chat modesty may more betray Our sense than woman's lightness?
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Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.
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Demetrius: Villain, what hast thou done? Aaron: That which thou canst not undo. Chiron: Thou hast undone our mother. Aaron: Villain, I have done thy mother.
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The sands are number'd that make up my life; Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
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God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!