William Shakespeare Quotes
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If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
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Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.
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Past and to come, seems best; things present, worse.
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I count myself in nothing else so happy as in a soul remembering my good Friends
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
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Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally, I would we could do so for her benefits are mightily misplaced and the bountiful blind girl doth most mistake in her gifts to women. 'Tis true for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly. Nay, now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures. Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.
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Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.
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Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
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Our enemies are our outward consciences.
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I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; not the soldier's which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
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A light heart lives long.
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No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.
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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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Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
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I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster!
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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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Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion!
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Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.
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Angels and ministers of grace defend us.
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When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy, over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
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O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do.
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Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.
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My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation.
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My pride fell with my fortunes.