William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 65 | Just Great DataBase

Come, my spade; there is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and gravemakers; they hold up Adam's profession.

There is a tide in the affairs of men.Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;Omitted, all the voyage of their lifeIs bound in shallows and in miseries.On such a full sea are we now afloat,And we must take the current when it serves,Or lose our ventures.

Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:Is this a holiday? what! know you not,Being mechanical, you ought not walkUpon a labouring day without the signOf your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet,if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

When love begins to sicken and decayIt useth an enforced ceremony.There are no tricks in plain and simple faith:But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,Make gallant show, and promise of their mettle.

This is the excellent foppery of the world that when we are sick in fortune—often the surfeit of our own behavior—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars, as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence, and all that we are evil in by a divine thrusting-on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!

What means this shouting? I do fear, the peopleChoose Caesar for their king.

المجنون من يثق في لطف ذئب او في حب فتى او في قسم عاهرة او في كلام من يود أن يبيعه حصانا.

You see we do, yet see you but our handsAnd this the bleeding business they have done:Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful

Jesters do oft prove prophets.

Vexed I am Of late with passions of some difference,Conceptions only proper to myself,Which gives some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.

FOOL. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I’ld have thee beaten for being old before thy time. LEAR. How’s that? FOOL. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.

Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt.

That such a slave as this should wear a sword,Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwainWhich are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passionThat in the natures of their lords rebel,Being oil to the fire, snow to the colder moods,Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaksWith every gale and vary of their mastersKnowing naught, like dogs, but following.

إن قلبي ينوح ألا تستطيع الفضيلة أن تعيش بمنجاة من أنياب الحسد.

machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves

Is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humors Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the night?

But I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like moulten lead.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears

Tráigame un cirujano, tengo herido el cerebro.