William Shakespeare Quotes
''The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. 1st Murderer, in Macbeth, act 3, sc. 3, l. 5-7.
Now spurs the lated traveller apace
To gain the timely inn.''
''O, what a world of vile ill-favoured faults,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Anne, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, act 3, sc. 4, l. 31-2 (1602).
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!''
''Keep this man safe;William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Antony, in Julius Caesar, act 5, sc. 4, l. 27-9. On the capture of Lucilius.
Give him all kindness. I had rather have
Such men my friends than enemies.''
''Beatrice. I am stuffed, cousin, I cannot smell.William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Beatrice and Margaret, in Much Ado About Nothing, act 3, sc. 4, l. 64-6. Beatrice is "stuffed" with a cold in the head, but Margaret takes the word in a bawdy sense.
Margaret. A maid, and stuffed! There's goodly catching of cold.''
''Bottom. What is Pyramus? A lover or a tyrant?William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Bottom and Quince, in A Midsummer Night's Dream, act 1, sc. 2, l. 22-6.
Quince. A lover that kills himself, most gallant, for love.
Bottom. That will ask some tears in the true performing of it. If I do it, let the audience look to their eyes.''
''I as free forgive youWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Buckingham, in Henry VIII, act 2, sc. 1, l. 82-3. Speaking on his way to be executed.
As I would be forgiven: I forgive all.''
''O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! That we should with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform ourselves into beasts!''William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Cassio, in Othello, act 2, sc. 3, l. 283-6 (1623).
''Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Claudio, in Measure for Measure, act 3, sc.1, l. 118-32 (1623).
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod, and the dilated spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbèd ice;
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathèd worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.''
''I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was upWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Cloten, in Cymbeline, act 2, sc. 3, l. 33-4. He has been gaming all night, and so was early enough to pay musicians to sing at sunrise to wake Imogen.
''Foul whisp'rings are abroad. Unnatural deedsWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Doctor, in Macbeth, act 5, sc. 1, l. 71-4. Unable to cure Lady Macbeth's disease of the mind, the guilt confessed in her sleep-walking.
Do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine than the physician.''
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All The World's A Stage
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in ...
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;