William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 15

A young man married is a man that's marred.

The fiend gives the more friendly counsel.

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel:Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!This was the most unkindest cut of all

To business that we love we rise betime And go to it with delight.

Sweet are the uses of adversityWhich, like the toad, ugly and venomous,Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.

When sorrows come they come not as single spies But in battalions!

But virtue, as it never will be moved,Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,So lust, though to a radiant angel linked,Will sate itself in a celestial bedAnd prey on garbage.

Sweets to the sweet farewell!

Every why hath a wherefore.

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.

O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.- Romeo -

OH ROMEO. THOU ART ROMEO. WILL YOU MARRY ME. THOU ART ROMEO.

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,/ Wherein the...enemy does much.

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;But do not dull thy palm with entertainmentOf each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,That he should weep for her?

What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.

More are men's ends marked than their lives before.The setting sun, the music at the close,As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,Writ in remembrance more than things long past.

I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table." Macbeth

Men should be what they seem.

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, shall we not revenge?". - (Act III, scene I).

But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.

Timon: I’ll beat thee, but I should infect my hands.

She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;They are the books, the arts, the academes,That show, contain and nourish all the world.

That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)

The worst is not so long as we can say "This is the worst."

She vied so fast, protesting oath after oath,that in a twink she won me to her love.O, you are novices. 'Tis a world to seeHow tame, when men and women are alone,A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.

...what care I for words? Yet words do wellWhen he that speaks them pleases those that hear.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

The soul of this man is his clothes.

If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.

He was a man, take him for all in all,I shall not look upon his like again.

Middle Tennessee? Really? My bracket is more busted than Screech's face during puberty.

Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as whenThe bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,Her ashes new-create another heirAs great in admiration as herself.

Her voice was ever soft Gentle and low an excellent thing in woman.

Not marble nor the gilded monumentsOf princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme,But you shall shine more bright in these contentsThan unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.When wasteful war shall statues overturnAnd broils roots out the work of masonry,Nor mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burnThe living record of your memory.'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmityShall you pace forth; your praise shall still find roomEven in the eyes of all posterityThat wear this world out to the ending doom.So, till judgement that yourself arise,You in this, and dwell in lovers eyes.

Oh, devil, devil!If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears,Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.Out of my sight!

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,That can sing both high and low:Trip no further, pretty sweeting;Journeys end in lovers meeting,Every wise man's son doth know.What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;Present mirth hath present laughter;What's to come is still unsure:In delay there lies not plenty;Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men blush not in actions blacker than the night, will 'schew no course to keep them from the light. One sin, I know, another doth provoke; Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke. Poison and treason are the hands of sin; Ay, and the targets to put off the shame. Then, lest my life be cropped to keep you clear, By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear.

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,tIn their nativity all truth appears.How can these things in me seem scorn to you,Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

For some must watch while some must sleep thus runs the world away.

Fear no more the heat o' the sun,Nor the furious winter's rages;

And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse - As patches set upon a little breach Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patched.

A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!

My particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.

He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood beget hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love.

There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.

I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire.

Can snore upon the flint when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard.

Why should their liberty than ours be more?

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.

Life... is a paradise to what we fear of death.

A peevish self-willed harlotry it is.*She’s a stubborn little brat.*

Ay every inch a king.

Beauty itself doth of itself persuadeThe eyes of men without orator.

An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star!

You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives and conned them out of rings?

Sometimes we punish ourselves the most.

... reason andlove keep little company together now-a-days...

Friendship is constant in all other thingsSave in the office and affairs of love.Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues.Let every eye negotiate for itself,And trust no agent; for beauty is a witchAgainst whose charms faith melteth into blood.