Quotes from William Shakespeare

Still so cruel? Still so constant, lord.

His silver skin laced with his golden blood.

There is magic in the web Shakespeare (Othello, Act 3, Scene 4)

Still better, and worse.

In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.

Too nice, and yet too true!

There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.

Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?

Fill till the wine o'erswell the cup

I will go tell him of Hermia's flight: Then to the wood will he to-morrow night Pursue her; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again.

Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.

O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!

Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!

Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, and, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy.

Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours.

What a piece of work is man!

When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won.

I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.

Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? HAMLET At supper. KING CLAUDIUS At supper! where? HAMLET Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes, but to one table: that's the end.

I will speak daggers to her, but use none.

Come, Lady, die to live.

Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me