William Shakespeare Quotes
''Orsino. For women are as roses, whose fair flowerWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Orsino and Viola, in Twelfth Night, act 2, sc. 4, l. 38-41. Transience, the swift passage of life, is a recurrent topic in the play; the image of a woman as a rose, fading as soon as it is full blown ("displayed") is common.
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
Viola. And so they are. Alas, that they are so:
To die even when they to perfection grow.''
''Your old virginity is like one of our French withered pears: it looks ill, it eats drily.''William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Paroles, in All's Well That Ends Well, act 1, sc. 1.
''To define true madness,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Polonius, in Hamlet, act 2, sc. 2, l. 93-4. Explaining Hamlet's madness to Claudius and Gertrude.
What is't but to be nothing else but mad?''
''What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks theWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Prince Henry, in Henry IV, Part 1, act 1, sc. 2, l. 6-12. On Falstaff's feckless way of life; "leaping-houses" means brothels.
tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored
taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous
to demand the time of the day.''
''Here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal.''William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Quince, in A Midsummer Night's Dream, act 3, sc. 1, l. 2-3.
''Rosalind. I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-onWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Rosalind and Orlando, in As You Like It, act 4, sc. 1, l. 112-7. Orlando is practicing how to woo Rosalind, who is disguised as a young man.
disposition; and ask me what you will, I will grant it.
Orlando. Then love me, Rosalind.
Rosalind. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and
''Moneys is your suit.William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Shylock, in The Merchant of Venice, act 1, sc. 3, l. 119-29. Shylock's famous expression of the humiliations he has suffered from the Christians.
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
"Hath a dog money? Is it possible
A cur can lend three thousand ducats?" Or
Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key,
With bated breath and whispering humbleness,
"Fair sir, you spat on me on Wednesday last,
You spurned me such a day, another time
You called me dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much moneys?"''
''The venom clamors of a jealous womanWilliam Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. The Abbess, in The Comedy of Errors, act 5, sc. 1, l. 69-70. The Abbess has drawn from Adriana the confession that she constantly reproached her husband about his unfaithfulness and supposedly drove him mad.
Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.''
''Repose you here in rest,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Titus, in Titus Andronicus, act 1, sc. 1, l. 151-5. Burying his sons, slain in war.
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps.
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells,
Here grow no damned drugs, here are no storms,
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep.''
''Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Volumnia, in Coriolanus, act 4, sc. 2, l. 50-1. Refusing an invitation to supper after Coriolanus's banishment.
And so shall starve with feeding.''
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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