William Shakespeare Quotes
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I see men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
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Remembrance of things past.
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Would I were in an alehouse in London.
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Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.
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Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes; then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
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How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
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What's gone, and what's past help, Should be past grief.
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Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone.
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Use every man according to his desert and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity, the less they deserve ... the more merit in your bounty.
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Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep.
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Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England." "Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?" "Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there." "Why?" "'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.
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Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
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How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms!
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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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Oh what fools we mortals are.
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He wears the rose Of youth upon him.
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My cousin's a fool, and thou art another.
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True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings.
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Be merry; you have cause, so have we all, of joy; for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.
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Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
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What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?
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It is a wise father that knows his own child.
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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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Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.