William Shakespeare Quotes on Name (36 Quotes)

    O, how I faint when I of you do write,
    Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
    And in the praise thereof spends all his might
    To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.

    A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful
    look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think,
    his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore; and
    now I remember me, his name is Falstaff.

    We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.

    The dangers of the days but newly gone,
    Whose memory is written on the earth
    With yet appearing blood, and the examples
    Of every minute's instance, present now,
    Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms;
    Not to break peace, or any branch of it,
    But to establish here a peace indeed,
    Concurring both in name and quality.

    For that he has-
    As much as in him lies- from time to time
    Envied against the people, seeking means
    To pluck away their power; as now at last
    Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence
    Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers
    That do distribute it- in the name o' th' people,
    And in the power of us the tribunes, we,
    Ev'n from this instant, banish him our city,
    In peril of precipitation
    From off the rock Tarpeian, never more
    To enter our Rome gates.

    These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixed star, Have no more profit of their shining nights; Than those that walk and wot not what they are.

    I see the jewel best enamelled
    Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still
    That others touch and, often touching, will
    Where gold; and no man that hath a name
    By falsehood and corruption doth it shame.

    If, in the course
    And process of this time, you can report,
    And prove it too against mine honour, aught,
    My bond to wedlock or my love and duty,
    Against your sacred person, in God's name,
    Turn me away and let the foul'st contempt
    Shut door upon me, and so give me up
    To the sharp'st kind of justice.

    Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought;
    Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame;
    It was not she that call'd him all to naught:
    Now she adds honours to his hateful name;
    She clepes him king of graves and grave for kings,
    Imperious supreme of all mortal things.

    Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face; Bears a command in't though thy tackle's torn, Thou show'st a noble vessel. What's thy name.

    Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
    That were the servants to this chosen infant,
    Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him;
    Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
    His honour and the greatness of his name
    Shall be, and make new nations; he shall flourish,
    And like a mountain cedar reach his branches
    To all the plains about him; our children's children
    Shall see this and bless heaven.

    Appear it to your mind
    That, through the sight I bear in things to come,
    I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,
    Incurr'd a traitor's name, expos'd myself
    From certain and possess'd conveniences
    To doubtful fortunes, sequest'ring from me all
    That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition,
    Made tame and most familiar to my nature;
    And here, to do you service, am become
    As new into the world, strange, unacquainted-
    I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
    To give me now a little benefit
    Out of those many regist'red in promise,
    Which you say live to come in my behalf.

    What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

    I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
    Lest my bewailèd guilt should do thee shame,
    Nor thou with public kindness honour me
    Unless thou take that honour from thy name.

    No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man,
    Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no tide-
    No, not that name was given me at the font-
    But 'tis usurp'd.

    A grandam's name is little less in love
    Than is the doating title of a mother;
    They are as children but one step below,
    Even of your metal, of your very blood;
    Of all one pain, save for a night of groans
    Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.

    For thou betraying me, I do betray
    My nobler part to my gross body's treason;
    My soul doth tell my body that he may
    Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason,
    But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
    As his triumphant prize.

    Some of us love you well; and even those some
    Envy your great deservings and good name,
    Because you are not of our quality,
    But stand against us like an enemy.

    That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
    Making lascivious comments on thy sport,
    Cannot dispraise, but in a kind of praise,
    Naming thy name, blesses an ill report.

    'Tis nothing less: conceit is still deriv'd
    From some forefather grief; mine is not so,
    For nothing hath begot my something grief,
    Or something hath the nothing that I grieve;
    'Tis in reversion that I do possess-
    But what it is that is not yet known what,
    I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot.

    More William Shakespeare Quotations (Based on Topics)

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