William Shakespeare Quotes (3360 Quotes)


    A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways;
    She treads the path that she untreads again;
    Her more than haste is mated with delays,
    Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,
    Full of respects, yet nought at all respecting;
    In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.

    Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
    As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

    Many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest timbered oak.

    When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
    And broils root out the work of masonry,
    Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
    The living record of your memory.

    The spirit that I have seen May be the devil and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.




    Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.



    God pardon all oaths that are broke to me God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee.

    GLOUCESTER I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night I thank my God for my humility.


    That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no
    discourse to your beauty.


    How excellent it is to have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous to use like a giant.

    If thou remember'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved.



    What stern ungentle hands
    Hath lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare
    Of her two branches- those sweet ornaments
    Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in,
    And might not gain so great a happiness
    As half thy love?

    She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
    That heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me,
    And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
    I should but teach him how to tell my story,
    And that would woo her.

    Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man
    in his bed- wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so,
    death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly
    lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes
    it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He
    let him outlive that day to see His greatness, and to teach
    others how they should prepare.




    I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about t'expound this dream.

    I am in blood Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er



    Sound trumpets let our bloody colors wave And either victory, or else a grave.


    One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.

    A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity but you gods will give us Some faults to make us men.


    O powerful love,that in some respects makes a beast a man,in some other, a man a beast.



    Fling away ambition by that sin fell the angels how can man then, the image of his Maker, hope to win by it.


    My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
    That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.

    Help, master, help here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law 'twill hardly come out.

    Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
    And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.




    The liquid drops of tears that you have shed Shall come again, transformed to orient pearl, Advantaging their loan with interest Of ten times double gain of happiness.

    Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt.

    The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
    Thou usurer, that putt'st forth all to use,
    And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake;
    So him I lose through my unkind abuse.




    Related Authors


    Oscar Wilde - George Bernard Shaw - Philippe Quinault - Lady Gregory - John Fletcher - Henry Taylor - Henry Porter - Hannah Cowley - George S. Kaufman - Anton Chekhov


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