Quotes by William Shakespeare

Deal mildly with his youth; for young hot colts, being rags, do rage the more.

The art of our necessities is strangeThat can make vile things precious.

ROMEO :Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here,Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dogAnd little mouse, every unworthy thing,Live here in heaven and may look on her,But Romeo may not. More validity,More honorable state, more courtship livesIn carrion flies than Romeo. They may seizeOn the white wonder of dear Juliet’s handAnd steal immortal blessing from her lips,Who even in pure and vestal modesty,Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.But Romeo may not. He is banishèd.Flies may do this, but I from this must fly.They are free men, but I am banishèd.And sayst thou yet that exile is not death?Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife,No sudden mean of death, though neer so mean,But “banishèd” to kill me?—“Banishèd”!O Friar, the damnèd use that word in hell.Howling attends it. How hast thou the heart,Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,To mangle me with that word “banishèd”?

Let every man be master of his time.

If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?. - (Act III, scene I).

The first thing we do, lets kill all the lawyers.

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.

Yet she must die, else shell betray more men.Put out the light, and then put out the light:If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,I can again thy former light restore,Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,Thou cunningst pattern of excelling nature,I know not where is that Promethean heatThat can thy light relume.

Come, sir, come,Ill wrestle with you in my strength of love.Look, here I have you, thus I let you go,And give you to the gods.

Love is not love which alters when it alterations finds. Sonnet 116

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold thats put to use more gold begets.

So oft it chances in particular menThat for some vicious mole of nature inthem—As in their birth (wherein they are not guilty,Since nature cannot choose his origin),By the oergrowth of some complexion,Oft breaking down the pales and forts ofreason,Or by some habit that too much oerleavensThe form of plausive manners—that thesemen,Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect,Being nature’s livery or fortune’s star,Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,As infinite as man may undergo)Shall in the general censure take corruptionFrom that particular fault. The dram of evilDoth all the noble substance of a doubtTo his own scandal.

I charge thee, fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels.

I have no spurTo prick the sides of my intent, but onlyVaulting ambition, which oerleaps itselfAnd falls on the other.

I thrice presented him a kingly crown. Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?

Verily, I swear, tis better to be lowly born, and range with humble livers in content, than to be perkd up in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.

Ambition should be made from sterner stuff.

The prince of darkness is a gentleman!

Look, hes winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.