Quotes from William Shakespeare

Have more than thou showest,Speak less than thou knowest,Lend less than thou owest.

It faded on the crowing of the cock.Some say that ever 'gainst that season comesWherein our Savior's birth is celebrated,The bird of dawning singeth all night long;And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad;The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and whiteNature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on:Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,If you will lead these graces to the graveAnd leave the world no copy.

A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.

In following him, I follow but myself.

Come, seeling night,Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,And with thy bloody and invisible handCancel and tear to pieces that great bondWhich keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crowMakes wing to the rooky wood.

A very ancient and fish-like smell.

And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.

Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be untilGreat Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hillShall come against him.

But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;They are not ever jealous for the cause,But jealous for they are jealous; 'tis a monsterBegot upon itself, born on itself.

For new-made honor doth forget men's names.

Thou [Death] setter up and plucker down of kings.

I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.

The weird sisters, hand in hand,Posters of the sea and land,Thus do go about, about:Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,And thrice again, to make up nine.Peace! The charm's wound up.

He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.

The ripest fruit first falls.

Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens.

Of all base passions, fear is most accurs'd.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,And Phoebus 'gins arise,His steeds to water at those springsOn chalic'd flowers that lies;And winking Mary-buds beginTo ope their golden eyes:With everything that pretty is,My lady sweet, arise.

Now good digestion wait on appetite,And health on both!

It is the very error of the moon;She comes more near the earth than she was wont,And makes men mad.

Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation,Figures pedantical.

Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves.

And thus I clothe my naked villanyWith odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ,And seem a saint when most I play the devil.