Quotes from William Shakespeare

Pardon's the word to all.

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like moulten lead.

Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

O that I were a mockery king of snow Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke To melt myself away in water drops!

Return of love, more blest may be the view; As call it winter, which being full of care, Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare. Sonet56

Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them.

Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently, For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honour more than I fear death.

For women fear too much, even as they love, And women's fear and love hold quantity, In neither aught, or in extremity. Now what my love is, proof hath made you know, And as my love is sized, my fear is so: Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear. Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

More flow'rs I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or color it had stol'n from thee.

But are not some whole that we must make sick?

betimes I will—to the weird sisters. (140) More shall they speak, for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good, All causes shall give way. I am in blood Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

How much better to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!

Then I defy you, stars!

And now about the cauldron sing Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! Where got'st thou that goose look?

She vied so fast, protesting oath after oath, that in a twink she won me to her love. O, you are novices. 'Tis a world to see How tame, when men and women are alone, A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.

She is herself a dowry.

Caesar, Now be still, I killed not thee with half so good a will?

I, sir, am Dromio; command him away. I, sir, am Dromio; pray, let me stay.

Pero el amor puede transformar en belleza y dignidad cosas bajas y viles, porque no ve con los ojos, sino con la mente, y por eso pinta ciego a Cupido el alado. Ni tiene en su mente el amor señal alguna de discernimiento; como que las alas y la ceguera son signos de imprudente premura. Y por ella se dice que el amor es niño, siendo tan a menudo engañado en la elección. Y como en sus juegos perjuran los muchachos traviesos, así el rapaz amor es perjurado en todas partes.

There's no face more sincere than one washed in tears.

Sound drums and trumpets! Farewell sour annoy! For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

All things that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral; Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, And all things change them to the contrary.

Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight, And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee, for I will fight Against my canker'd country with the spleen Of all the under fiends.