Quotes by William Shakespeare
Neither a borrower nor a lender be For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
How like a winter hath my absence been. From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a colossus, and we petty men...
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,ââ?¬â? For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf; Witches' mummy; maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark; Root of hemlock digg'd i the dark; Liver of blaspheming Jew; Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse; Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips; Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,ââ?¬â? Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, For the ingrediants of our caldron. Fire burn, and caldron bubble.Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble. Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good.
Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.
Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum! Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, revel the night, rob, murder, and commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.
O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day!
Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at their death have good inspirations.
Men are April when they woo, December when they wed; maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.
In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life.
When holy and devout religious men Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence So sweet is zealous contemplation.
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds Reverb no hollowness.
And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's office? Shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot?
Journeys end in lovers meeting.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the godsThey kill us for their sport.
Lady you berefit me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins, And there is such confusion in my powers.
Wedding is great Juno's crown, O blessed bond of board and bed!...
Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.
O, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind farewell content Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars That make ambition virtue O, farewell Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell Othello's occupation's gone
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; for in my youth I never did apply hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; and did not, with unbashful forehead, woo the means of weakness and debility: therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.
Life's uncertain voyage.
He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
