William Shakespeare Quotes
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The attempt and not the deed confounds us.
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Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.
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It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo
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Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear
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Put money in thy purse.
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Angels and ministers of grace defend us.
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The play's the thing.
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As he was valiant, I honour him. But as he was ambitious, I slew him.
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She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm 'i th' bud, feed on her damask cheek. She pinned in thought; and, with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more; but indeed our shows are more than will; for we still prove much in our vows but little in our love.
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What is past is prologue.
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We were not born to sue, but to command.
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The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness.
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For this relief, much thanks
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Like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.
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All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may.
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An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
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Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
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Delivers in such apt and gracious words that aged ears play truant at his tales; And younger hearings are quite ravished; So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?
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in black ink my love may still shine bright.
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Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth.
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The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, By their increase, now knows not which is which.
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That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire.
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DON PEDRO Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of Signior Benedick. BEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one: marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, therefore your grace may well say I have lost it. DON PEDRO You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I should prove the mother of fools.