William Shakespeare Quotes
''The evil that men do lives after them;William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. Julius Caesar (III, ii). NAWM-1. The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
The good is oft interred with their bones.''
''Thus may we gather honey from the weedWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. King Henry, in Henry V, act 4, sc. 1, l. 11-2. Drawing encouragement from adversity.
And make a moral of the devil himself.''
''Go bind thou up young dangling apricotsWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. King Richard II (III, iv). Giving instructions to his assistant; "prodigal" means excessive. The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight.
Give some supportance to the bending twigs.
Go thou, and like an executioner
Cut off the heads of too-fast-growing sprays
That look too lofty in our commonwealth.
All must be even in our government.
You thus employed, I will go root away
The noisome weeds which without profit suck
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.''
''The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough.''William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Launcelot Gobbo, in The Merchant of Venice, act 2, sc. 2, l. 149-51. The proverb is "the grace of God is great enough"; Launcelot means that his father has grace, and Shylock enough in the sense of wealth.
''Time doth transfix the flourish set on youthWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore (l. 9-14). . . The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.''
''I have boughtWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Macbeth, in Macbeth, act 1, sc. 7.
Golden opinions from all sorts of people.''
''It shall be said his judgment ruled our hands.William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Metellus, in Julius Caesar, act 2, sc. 1, l. 147-9. Arguing for the inclusion of Cicero as one of the conspirators.
Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear,
But all be buried in his gravity.''
''He says he loves my daughter:William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Old Shepherd, in The Winter's Tale, act 4, sc. 4, l. 171-6. On Perdita and Florizel.
I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon
Upon the water as he'll stand and read
As 'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain,
I think there is not half a kiss to choose
Who loves another best.''
''Put out the light, and then put out the light.William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Othello, in Othello, act 5, sc. 2, l. 7-13. The "light" is both that of the candle ("flaming minister") he carries and that of Desdemona; Prometheus in Greek legend stole fire from the gods to give it to human beings; "relume" means light again.
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore
Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume.''
''Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou.''William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Petruchio, in The Taming of the Shrew, act 4, sc. 3, l. 109. An example of Petruchio's insults, here directed at a tailor; a "nit" is the egg of a louse.
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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;