Quotes from William Shakespeare

I have more care to stay than will to go.

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too-- Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out-- And take upon 's the mystery of things As if we were God's spies...

If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, he's mine or I am his.

You speak like a green girl / unsifted in such perilous circumstances.

Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.

What relish is in this? How runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream. Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep. If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.

Well, we were born to die.

A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold. Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with!

None can be called deformed but the unkind.

O God of battles, steel my soldier's hearts. Possess them not with fear. Take from them now The sense of reckoning ere th' opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them.

He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. (Shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, IV)

I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was up so early.

Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan the outward habit by the inward man.

O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep.

While he was drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.

Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban

Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave.

Ah, no jures por la luna, esa inconstante que cada mes cambia en su esfera, no sea que tu amor resulte tan variable.

I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume.

Why, this is very midsummer madness.