Quotes from William Shakespeare

The deep of night is crept upon our talk,And nature must obey necessity.

Report of fashions in proud Italy,Whose manners still our tardy apish nationLimps after in base imitation.

Ophelia:'Tis brief, my lord.Hamlet: As woman's love.

Farewell, my sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well.

Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,Than the sea-monster.

Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;And let us all to meditation.

With one auspicious and one dropping eye,With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage,In equal scale weighing delight and dole.

O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shameWhen the compulsive ardor gives the charge,Since frost itself as actively doth burn,And reason panders will.

Lest too light winningMake the prize light.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.

Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.

Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth,And dallies with the innocence of love,Like the old age.

Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius!If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;If not, why then, this parting was well made.

But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gallTo make oppression bitter.

Turn him to any cause of policy,The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks,The air, a charter'd libertine, is still.

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund dayStands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops.

O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!

The venom clamors of a jealous womanPoison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.

No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,And crook the pregnant hinges of the kneeWhere thrift may follow fawning.

Some to the common pulpits, and cry out,"Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!"

Whose sore taskDoes not divide the Sunday from the week.

But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,And leave them honeyless.