William Shakespeare Quotes

O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!

Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.

Ready to go but never to return.

God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.

The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.

I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity.

No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

She marking them begins a wailing note And sings extemporally a woeful ditty How love makes young men thrall and old men dote How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, And still the choir of echoes answer so.

How hard it is for women to keep counsel!

The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart-see, they bark at me.

A pal is one that is aware you while you are, understands where you have already been, accepts whatever you are becoming, and continue to, carefully means that you can develop.

Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct.

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both.

World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.

T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?

Security is the chief enemy of mortals.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed.

Pride went before, ambition follows him.

O heaven! that one might read the book of fate, and see the revolution of the times.

I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.

You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.

Oh, thou did'st then ne'er love so heartily. If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run inot, Thou has not loved. Of if thou has't not sat as I do now, Wearying they hearer in thy mistress's praise, Thou has not loved. Of if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou has not loved. (Silvius)

Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.

A woman's fitness comes by fits.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear.

My love's more richer than my tongue.

I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.

I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good.

O Judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason !

Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up. Be that thou know'st thou art and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.

Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own

Gold were as good as twenty orators.

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.

Love will not be spurred to what it loathes

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

But thy eternal summer shall not fade.

She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.

Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity?

And oft, my jealousy shapes faults that are not.