William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 50 | Just Great DataBase

[...] my heart is wondrous light,Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

Thou canst not speak of thou dost not feel.

Good madonna, give me leave toprove you a fool.

For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

Alas, that they are so!To die even when they to perfection grow!

If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.

so full of shapes is fancy

Have not we affections and desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

If it were now to die,'Twere now to be most happy, for I fearMy soul hath her content so absoluteThat no other comfort, like to thisSucceeds in unknown fate

And then he drew a dial from his poke,And looking with lack-lustre eye,Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags:'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

Jaq: By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you.Orl: He is drowned in the brook, look but in and you shall see him.Jaq: There I shall see mine own figure.Orl: Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher.

If it be true that good wine needs no bush,'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue;yet to good wine they do use good bushes,and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues.

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't

There's some ill planet reigns:I must be patient till the heavens lookWith an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,I am not prone to weeping, as our sexCommonly are; the want of which vain dewPerchance shall dry your pities: but I haveThat honourable grief lodged here which burnsWorse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,With thoughts so qualified as your charitiesShall best instruct you, measure me; and soThe king's will be perform'd!

The breaking of so great a thing should makeA greater crack. The round worldShould have shook lions into civil streetsAnd citizens to their dens. The death of AnthonyIs not a single doom, in the name layA moiety of the world.

There is no measure in the occasion that breeds;therefore the sadness is without limit.

I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go.

There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!

and the rest is silence

This too shall pass