Quotes from William Shakespeare

Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings.

You must forsake this room, and go with us: Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,— If there be any cunning cruelty That can torment him much and

O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet.

That vulture in you to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclined.

Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last, A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed. It's

I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you!        Exit

Call me what instrume you will,though you can fret me,yet you cannot play upon me.

good alone Is good without a name, vileness is so

Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one.

Sirrah, your Father's dead: And what will you do now? How will you live? Son: As birds do, mother. L. Macd: What with worms and flies? Son: With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

Only I have left to say, 'More is thy due than more than all can pay'.

The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his master.

Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, For 'tis thy rival.

The Prince's fool! Ha, it may be I go under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I am apt to do myself wrong.

To-morrow re than an illusion. It's like a poor actor who struts and worries for his hour on the stage and then is never heard from again. Life is a story told by an idiot, full of noise and emotional disturbance but devoid of meaning.

O, she was foul!— I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: I know this act shows horrible and grim. GRATIANO Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead: Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobance. OTHELLO 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath

Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I could set my ten commandments in your face.

The merciless Macdonald (Worthy to be a rebel, — for, to that, The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him) from the Western Isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Showed like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak: For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name) Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like valour's minion, Carv'd out his passage.

Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief.

And we'll strive to please you every day.

I'll example you with thievery: The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun; The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement: each thing's a thief.

Were kisses all the joys in bed,/One woman would another wed.

And graves have yawned and yielded up their dead. Fierce

As whence the sun 'gins his reflection Shipwracking storms and direful thunders break, so from that spring whence comfort seemed to come discomfort swells.