William Shakespeare Quotes
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The sense of death is most in apprehension.
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Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor? Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest. Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart. Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.
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Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked?
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And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.
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When faced with a sea of troubles, take action, and in so doing end it.
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I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.
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Beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time.
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You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness!
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Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.
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The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
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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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Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
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A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame.
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O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'Tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies not plenty; Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
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To you your father should be as a god.
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Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass'd.
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Ambition, the soldier's virtue.
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Every man has his fault, and honesty is his.
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Things in motion sooner catch the eye than what not stirs.
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Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, Nettled and stung with pismires[nettles], when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
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Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them. They see, and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have.
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I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.
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I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
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God send everyone their heart's desire!