William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 11

Tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

Those that much covet are with gain so fond,For what they have not, that which they possessThey scatter and unloose it from their bond,And so, by hoping more, they have but less;Or, gaining more, the profit of excessIs but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain,That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.

Lucentio: I read that I profess, the Art of Love.Bianca: And may you prove, sir, master of your art!Lucentio: While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!

Educated men are so impressive!

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.

If you have tears prepare to shed them now.

My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.

Alas, my lord, your wisdom is consumed in confidence.

Benedick: I protest I love thee.Beatrice: Why, then, God forgive me!Benedick: What offence, sweet Beatrice?Beatrice: You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about toprotest I loved you.Benedick: And do it with all thy heart.Beatrice: I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.

I am a Jew: Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands organs dimensions senses affections passions? fed with die same food hurt with the same weapons subject to the same diseases healed by the same means warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is?

That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.In me thou seest the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fadeth in the west,Which by and by black night doth take away,Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.In me thou see'st the glowing of such fireThat on the ashes of his youth doth lie,As the death-bed whereon it must expireConsumed with that which it was nourish'd by.This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty, beyond waht can be valued, rich or rare; no less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor; as much as child e'er loved, or father found; a love that makes breath poor, and speech unable; beyond all manner of so much I love you.

He stopped the flyersAnd by his rare example made the cowardTurn terror into sport. As weeds beforeA vessel under sail, so men obeyedAnd fell below his stem. His sword, Death's stamp,Where it did mark, it took; from face to footHe was a thing of blood, whose every motionWas timed with dying cries. Alone he enteredThe mortal gate o' th' city, which he paintedWith shunless destiny; aidless came offAnd with a sudden reinforcement struckCorioles like a planet. Now all's his,When by and by the dim of war gan pierceHis ready sense; then straight his doubled spiritRequickened what in flesh was fatigate,And to the battle came he, where he didRun reeking o'er the lives of men as if'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we calledBoth field and city ours, he never stoodTo ease his breast with panting.

To sleep! perchance to dream ay there's the rub For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil Must give us pause.

I know you all, and will awhile uphold the unyoked humour of your idleness . . .

Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth But the plain single vow that is vow'd true.

The fashion wears out more apparel than the man.

O, that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.

They are but beggars that can count their worth.

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, he's mine or I am his.

Happy thou art not for what thou hast not still thou striv'est to get and what thou hast forget'est.

[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.

What you doStill betters what is done. When you speak, sweet.I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing,I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms,Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish youA wave o' the sea, that you might ever doNothing but that; move still, still so,And own no other function: each your doing,So singular in each particular,Crowns what you are doing in the present deed,That all your acts are queens.

I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, heal'd by the same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, do we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.

As full of spirit as the month of May.

All the world's a stage And all the men and women merely players.

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.

One man in his time plays many parts.

Let them obey that know not how to rule.

They do not love that do not show their love.

O, she's warm!If this be magic, let it be an artLawful as eating.

When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

It were a grief so brief to part with thee.Farewell.

Romeo: Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,To the last syllable of recorded time;And all our yesterdays have lighted foolsThe way to dusty death.- Macbeth Act V, Scene V

O war! thou son of Hell!

If music be the food of love, play on,Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts.

What cannot be avoided t'were childish weakness to lament or fear.

How art thou out of breath when thou hast breathTo say to me that thou art out of breath?

Modest doubt is call'd the beacon of the wise.

The course of true love never did run smooth.

Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?

Alack, there lies more peril in thine eyeThan twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,And I am proof against their enmity.

To climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first.

For she had eyes and chose me.

These violent delights have violent ends.

Cucullus non facit monachum; that’s as much to say, as I wear not motley in my brain.

I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.

Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know / When though didst hate him worst, thou loved’st him better / Than ever thou loved’st Cassius.

Out, damned spot! out, I say!

O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out, / Against the wrackful siege of battering days?

Things past redress are now with me past care.

Oh, I am fortune's fool!

And since you know you cannot see yourself,so well as by reflection, I, your glass,will modestly discover to yourself,that of yourself which you yet know not of.

To weep is to make less the depth of grief.

For this new-married man approaching here,Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'dYour well defended honour, you must pardonFor Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,--Being criminal, in double violationOf sacred chastity and of promise-breachThereon dependent, for your brother's life,--The very mercy of the law cries outMost audible, even from his proper tongue,'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!'Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE

Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But in the less foul profanation.

I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels.