Top 4037 Quotes & Sayings by William Shakespeare - Page 64

Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.

Pastime passing excellent, if it he husbanded with modesty.

My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.

Love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition: Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away.

For my own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men.

Like one who draws the model of a house beyond his power to build it who, half through, gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost a naked subject to the weeping clouds.

The breach of custom Is breach of all.

O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me; But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.

For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.

Against ill chances men are ever merry, But heaviness foreruns the good event.

The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.

Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.

O, where is loyalty? If it be banished from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbor in the earth?

If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, And let not women's weapons, water drops, Stain my man's cheeks.

Yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.

A woman's fitness comes by fits.

Thou hast her, France; let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.

Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.

Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me--'banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

Be as just and gracious unto me, As I am confident and kind to thee.

Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.

The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down.

Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canter dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.

What man dare, I dare. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.

Speak, what trade art thou? Why, sir, a carpenter. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What does thou with thy best apparel on?

Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles.

Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls; Conscience is but a work that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe: Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law!

What valor were it, when a cur doth grin, for one to thrust his hand between his teeth, when he might spurn him with his foot away?

Villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption; Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man; Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, that sing my heart; Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas.

If is a custom, More honor'd in the breach than the observance.

One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish like enchanting harmony.

Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?

That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, And leave thee in a storm.

Gold--what can it not do, and undo?

I am thy father's spirit; Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away.

Should the poor be flattered? No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, and crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning.

Men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.

Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched; For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.

There is none but he Whose being I do fear; and under him My genius is rebuked, as it is said Mark Antony's was by Caesar.

Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.

Tis better using France than trusting France; Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas, Which He hath given for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves; In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.

Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me. Now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass; so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, any by my friends I am abused; so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives, why then, the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes.

Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.

Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

O heresy in fair, fit for these days, A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.

To be generous, guiltless, and of a free disposition is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets.

My master hath been an honorable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.

Foul whisp'rings are abroad.

Most friendship is faining, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly. This life is most jolly.

How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

O Prosperina, For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's wagon; daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength--a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one.

A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool! a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.

There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; And do a willful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity profound conceit; As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!

Friendship's full of dregs.

O the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!

However wickedness outstrips men, it has no wings to fly from God.

Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.

No visor does become black villainy so well as soft and tender flattery.

It is lost at dice, what ancient honor won.

Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.