Quotes from William Shakespeare

If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?

for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

I talk of you: Why did you wish me milder? would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.

O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!

Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit a kingdom for it was to small a bound. But now two paces of the vilest earth are room enough

For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.

As merry as the day is long.

Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.

What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts...

Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands. Curtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist, Foot is featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Frailty, thy name is woman!

Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you did My heart fly to your service, there resides to make me slave to it, and for your sake Am I this patient log-man.

Totus mundus agit histrionem. (All the World's a Stage.) [Motto of William Shakespeare's Globe Theatre (f. 1599) and its acting company, The King's Men; taken from the first play to be performed on the new stage.]

a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.

It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo

She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.

Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.

But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description.

Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.

If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.