William Shakespeare Quotes (3360 Quotes)


    Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not
    love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh- but that's no marvel;
    he drinks no wine.

    But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
    And, constant stars, in them I read such art
    As truth and beauty shall together thrive
    If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert:
    Or else of thee this I prognosticate,
    Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.


    You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man for the constable of the watch, therefore bear you the lantern.

    He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.




    Death and destruction dogs thee at thy heels;
    Thy mother's name is ominous to children.

    Hast any philosophy in thee shepherd . ... He that wants money, means and content, is without three good friends that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn that good pasture makes fat sheep, and a great cause of the night is lack of the sun that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.

    Why should my heart think that a several plot
    Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?


    Lovers can see to do their amorous rites
    By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,
    It best agrees with night.

    My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
    Upon my soul, they shall.


    But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. (A warning against staying single)

    False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox
    in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.

    Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But lust's effect is tempest after sun Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done Love surfeit's not, Lust like a glutton dies, Love is all truth, Lust full


    Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,
    And offer me disguis'd in sober robes
    To old Baptista as a schoolmaster
    Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca;
    That so I may by this device at least
    Have leave and leisure to make love to her,
    And unsuspected court her by herself.


    No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
    All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more.

    Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous
    life, long and ever-happy, to the high and mighty
    Princess of England, Elizabeth!

    Let there be gall enough in thy ink though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.

    Think'st thou, Hortensio, though her father
    be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?

    You may my glories and my state depose, But not my griefs still am I king of those.





    The feast is ready which the careful Titus
    Hath ordain'd to an honourable end,
    For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome.


    Now I come to't, my lord:
    She that accuses him of fornication,
    In self-same manner doth accuse my husband;
    And charges him, my lord, with such a time
    When I'll depose I had him in mine arms,
    With all th' effect of love.



    If't be so,
    Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd;
    His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.



    Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
    That for thy right, myself will bear all wrong.


    Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

    Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
    A contract of true love; be not too late.


    A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome.

    For beauty lives with kindness:
    Love doth to her eyes repair,
    To help him of his blindness;
    And, being help'd, inhabits there.


    What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.

    Neither the King, nor he that loves him best,
    The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
    Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells.

    Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days,
    Either not assailed, or victor being charged;
    Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
    To tie up envy, evermore enlarged.

    He loves us not;
    He wants the natural touch; for the poor wren,
    The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
    Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.

    Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.


    Related Authors


    Tennessee Williams - George Bernard Shaw - Richard Steele - Philippe Quinault - Lady Gregory - John Fletcher - Hannah Cowley - George S. Kaufman - Anton Chekhov - Alexandre Dumas


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