William Shakespeare Quotes
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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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There is not one wise man in twenty that will praise himself.
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There are occasions and causes, why and wherefore in all things.
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Obey thy parents, keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. * * * Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy pen from lenders' books.
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This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.
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Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, To signify thou camest to bite the world.
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If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
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Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion!
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This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision; Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.
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When workmen strive to do better than well, they do confound their skill in covetousness.
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He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.
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The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
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O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
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What's done is done. The joy is in the doing.
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I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
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Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
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So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.
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I came, saw, and overcame.
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As love is full of unbefitting strains, All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye, Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance
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Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?
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To wilful men, the injuries that they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters.
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No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth
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Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; Calls virtue hypocrite; takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths.
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Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.