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William Shakespeare Quotes Creator → @marat_badykov
“Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth” - Macbeth
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“Alas, the frailty is to blame, not we
For such as we are made of, such we be” - Twelfth Night
“I will do anything ... ere I'll be married to a sponge.” - The Merchant of Venice
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“For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.”
“Thou canst not speak of thou dost not feel.” - Romeo and Juliet
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“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?” - Henry V
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“You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense.” - The Tempest
“My love as deep the more I give to thee,
The more I have, both are infinite.”
“For you and I are past our dancing days” - Romeo and Juliet
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“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .” - Romeo and Juliet
“death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,” - Hamlet
“This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.” - Hamlet
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“But, soft! methinks I do digress too much,” - Titus Andronicus
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“O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden,
That grows to seed things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely. That it should come to this!
But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two:
So excellent a king that was, to this,
Hyperion to a satyr so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month--
Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!--
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she--
O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules: within a month:
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not nor it cannot come to good:
But break, my heart for I must hold my tongue.” - Hamlet
“D. John.: I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace and it better fits my blood to be disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob love from any: in this, though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog therefore I have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my mouth, I would bite if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.” - Much Ado About Nothing
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“You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.” - Hamlet
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“Come and take choice of all my library and so beguile thy sorrow.” - Titus Andronicus
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“For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings
How some have been deposed some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed
Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd
All murder'd: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Act 3, Scene 2” - Richard II
“[I] must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words.” - Hamlet
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“When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain?” - Macbeth
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“Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power than use and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech.” - All's Well That Ends Well
“This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” - Hamlet
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“But Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me?"
Catherine: "I cannot tell."
Henry: "Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them.” - Henry V
“The ides of March are come.
Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar but not gone.” - Julius Caesar
“WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost
It yearns me not if men my garments wear
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition
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.” - Henry V
“But jealous souls will not be answered so.
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they’re jealous. It is a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.” - Othello
“How much salt water thrown away in waste/
To season love, that of it doth not taste.” - Romeo and Juliet