William Shakespeare Quotes
''But jealous souls will not be answered so;William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Emilia, in Othello, act 3, sc. 4, l. 159-62.
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they're jealous. It is a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.''
''O, you shall see him laugh till his face be like a wet cloakWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Falstaff, in Henry IV, Part 2, act 5, sc. 1, l. 84-5.
ill laid up.''
''Gertrude. Why seems it so particular with thee?William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Gertrude and Hamlet, in Hamlet, act 1, sc. 2, l. 75-6. Gertrude has attempted to console Hamlet for his father's death by urging that death is common, i.e., universal, not "particular."
Hamlet. Seems, madam? nay, it is, I know not "seems."''
''"The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. Hamlet (II, ii). NAWM-1. The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble
When he lay couched in the ominous horse,
Hath now this dread and black complexion smeared
With heraldry more dismal. Head to foot
Now is he total gules, horridly tricked
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons,
Baked and impasted with the parching streets,
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light
To their lord's murder. Roasted in wrath and fire,
And thus o'ersized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks."''
'''Tis a consummationWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Hamlet, in Hamlet, act 3, sc. 1, l. 62-3. "Consummation" means final completion of this life.
Devoutly to be wished.''
''What art thou that usurp'st this time of night,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Horatio, in Hamlet, act 1, sc. 1, l. 46-9. Addressing the ghost of Hamlet's father, the dead King of Denmark; Horatio questions the ghost's right to assume that likeness, and its right to invade the night, by the use of the term "usurp'st."
Together with that fair and warlike form
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak!''
''Look,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Imogen, in Cymbeline, act 3, sc. 4, l. 66-9. She draws Pisanio's sword, on learning he has been ordered by Posthumus to murder her.
I draw the sword myself; take it, and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart.
Fear not, 'tis empty of all things but grief.''
''But old folksmany feign as they were dead,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Juliet, in Romeo and Juliet, act 2, sc. 5, l. 16-7. Thinking of her old nurse; "feign as" means behave as if.
Unwieldy, slow, heavy, and pale as lead.''
''He that shall see this day and live old ageWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. King Henry, in Henry V, act 4, sc. 3, l. 44-6. October 25, the day the battle of Agincourt was fought.
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors
And say, "Tomorrow is Saint Crispian."''
''Good my lord,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. King Lear (I, i). OHFP. The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
You have begot me, bred me, loved me. I
Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honor you.
Why have my sisters husbands if they say
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty.
Sure I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all.''
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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 ...
What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case