Quotes by William Shakespeare

For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say, I cannot speak him home: he stoppd the fliers; And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport: as weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obeyd And fell below his stem: his sword, deaths stamp, Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was timed with dying cries: alone he enterd The mortal gate of the city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off, And with a sudden reinforcement struck Corioli like a planet: now alls his: When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit Re-quickend what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he; where he did Run reeking oer the lives of men, as if Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we calld Both field and city ours, he never stood To ease his breast with panting.

Go, prick thy face and over-red thy fear,Thou lily-livered boy.

Of all mad matches never was the likeBeing mad herself, she’s madly mated.

The curse of true love never did run smooth.

Men from children nothing differ.

Get you gone, you dwarf,You minimus of hindering knotgrass made,You bead, you acorn!

Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh,Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.

Brief as the lightning in the collied night;That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and Earth,And ere a man hath power to say Behold!The jaws of darkness do devour it up.So quick bright things come to confusion.

They say an old man is twice a child

To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life.

The fiend gives the more friendly counsel.

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,Knew you not Pompey?

Mad I call it, for to define true madness, what ist to be nothing else but mad?

Alack, when once our grace we have forgot,Nothing goes right; we would and we would not.

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

In my minds eye

That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet

You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths wives and conned them out of rings?

JAQUES: Rosalind is your loves name?ORLANDO: Yes, just.JAQUES: I do not like her name.ORLANDO: There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.