William Shakespeare Quotes
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That which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in. and the best of me is diligence.
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I dote on his very absence.
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The pleasing punishment that women bear.
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I can see his pride Peep through each part of him.
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I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind.
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Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal.
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And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.
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By innocence I swear, and by my youth, I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, And that no woman has, nor never none Shall mistress be of it save I alone.
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Yet, for I know thou art religious And hast a thing within thee called conscience, With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies Which I have seen thee careful to observe, Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know An idiot holds his bauble for a god And keeps the oath which by that god he swears, To that I'll urge him: therefore thou shalt vow By that same god, what god soe'er it be, That thou adorest and hast in reverence, To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up, Or else I will discover naught to thee.
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All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
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To be direct and honest is not safe.
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Give me a staff of honor for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world.
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So many horrid Ghosts.
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Conscience is a thousand swords.
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An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.
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O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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If't be summer news, Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still.
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You are my true and honourable wife; As dear to me as the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
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You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care
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Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast...
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Soft pity enters an iron gate.
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She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
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She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared.