I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
But what might you think,
When I had seen this hot love on the wing
(As I perceiv'd it, I must tell you that,
Before my daughter told me), what might you,
Or my dear Majesty your queen here, think,
If I had play'd the desk or table book,
Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb,
Or look'd upon this love with idle sight?
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
These vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste.
You kiss by the book.
Your face, my thane, is a book where menMay read strange matters.
Within the book and volume of my brain.
The painful warrior famousèd for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razèd quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.
Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders books, and defy the foul fiend.
O, that record could with a backward look,
Even of five hundred courses of the sun,
Show me your image in some antique book,
Since mind at first in character was done.
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse,
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
Call me a fool;
Trust not my reading nor my observation,
Which with experimental seal doth warrant
The tenure of my book; trust not my age,
My reverence, calling, nor divinity,
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here
Under some biting error.
Shakespeare scholars just sigh and consign the book to the great pantheon of revelations ... I am accustomed to fanatics who get a funny look in the eye when they come to speak to me how about the Earl of Oxford or Marlowe really wrote the plays. She spoke rationally, and it's an intelligently readable book, but it floats way above the facts, as I told her.
He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book he hath not eat paper, as it were he hath not drunk ink his intellect is not replenished.
He hath not fed of the dainties that are bred in a book he hath not eat paper, as it were he hath not drunk ink.
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me, From mine own library with volumes that; I prize above my dukedom.
Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow.
My library; Was dukedom large enough.
Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks Small have continuous plodders ever won, Save base authority from others' books.
And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
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.
These offices, so oft as thou wilt look,
Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.
Come, swear to that; kiss the book.
Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
And on just proof surmise, accumulate;
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your wakened hate,
Since my appeal says I did strive to prove
The constancy and virtue of your love.
More William Shakespeare Quotations (Based on Topics)
Love - Man - Mind - Kings & Queens - World - Time - Life - God - Friendship - Belief & Faith - Death & Dying - Heaven - War & Peace - Fairness - Fool - Night - Fear - Speaking - Soul - View All William Shakespeare Quotations
More William Shakespeare Quotations (By Book Titles)
- A Midsummer Night's Dream
- As You Like It
- Julius Caesar
- King Lear
- Much Ado About Nothing
- The Merchant of Venice
- The Taming of the Shrew
- Twelfth Night
Oscar Wilde - George Bernard Shaw - Richard Steele - Philippe Quinault - Jean Racine - Henry Taylor - Henry Porter - Hannah Cowley - George Colman - Anton Chekhov