William Shakespeare Quotes
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Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
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And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That makes ingrateful man!
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My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.
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Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth, And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out.
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I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list!
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When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows
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Thoughts are but dreams till their effects are tried.
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Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
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He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
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Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.
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A young man married is a man that's marred.
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A lean cheek; which you have not: a blue eye, and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable spirit; which you have not: a beard neglected; which you have not: — but I pardon you for that; for, simply, your having1 in beard is a younger brother's revenue: — Then your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation.
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A politician... one that would circumvent God.
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Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.
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They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
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So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone.
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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
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Being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June. Heard, not regarded.
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Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.
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Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
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Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurour and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man!