William Shakespeare Quotes

Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.

The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.

Through the forest have I gone. But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love. Night and silence.--Who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear: This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, On the dank and dirty ground. Pretty soul! she durst not lie Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. Churl, upon thy eyes I throw All the power this charm doth owe. When thou wakest, let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eyelid: So awake when I am gone; For I must now to Oberon.

Out, damned spot! Out, I say!

This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,Was once thought honest.

There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.

Scratching could not make it worse, an't were such a face as yours were.

And a man's life's no more than to say "One."

Leave us to our free election.

Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.

Mind your speech a little lest you should mar your fortunes.

Then happy I that love and am beloved, where I may not remove nor be removed.

I hope to see London once ere I die.

I was adored once too.

I am your wife if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me, but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.

I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.

If she be not honest, chaste, and true, there's no man happy.

Never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.

So quick bright things come to confusion.​​​​​​

To be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.

Gold--what can it not do, and undo?

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.

Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.

Crack'd in pieces by malignant Death.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.

And send him many years of sunshine days!

Lovers ever run before the clock

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend: thy love ne'er alter, till they sweet life end

For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.

Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say 'Father, as it please me.

Liberty plucks justice by the nose; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.

I must be cruel, only to be kind.

Making night hideous.

O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.

I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.

Base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them.

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

A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.

But 'tis common proof, that lowliness is young ambition's ladder, whereto the climber-upward turns his face; but when he once attains the upmost round, he then turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the vase defrees by which he did ascend.

When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

But till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good discourse, and excellent musician and her hair shall be of what colour it shall please God.

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.