William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 72 | Just Great DataBase

For I am born to tame you, Kate,And bring you from a wild Kate to a KateComfortable as other household Kates.

KING RICHARD. I have learn'd that fearful commentingIs leaden servitor to dull delay;Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary.Then fiery expedition be my wing,Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!Go, muster men. My counsel is my shield.We must be brief when traitors brave the field.

For their loveLlies in their purses, and whoso empties themBy so much fills their hearts with deadly hate.

Woe to that land that’s govern’d by a child!

Thus I clothe my naked villainy with old odd ends, stolen forth of holy writ, and seem a saint when most I play the devil.

They that stand high have many blasts to shake 275 them, 276 And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

LADY ANNE:Villain, thou know'st nor law of God nor man:No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER:But I know none, and therefore am no beast.LADY ANNE:O wonderful, when devils tell the troth!RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER:More wonderful, when angels are so angry.

KING RICHARD III:I am inSo far in blood that sin will pluck on sin.

I will speak daggers to her but use none.My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites.How in my words somever she be shent,To give them seals never, my soul, consent!

Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of DenmarkIs by a forged process of my deathRankly abused: but know, thou noble youth,The serpent that did sting thy father's lifeNow wears his crown.

There's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.

O shame! where is thy blush?

Slabosti tvoje ime je žena.

إن كلماتي تصعد إلى أعلى ولكن نياتي باقية على الأرض.وهيهات أن ترقى إلى السماء كلماتلا تعززها النية الخالصة.

Тъпча се с въздух, пълен с обещания.

QUEEN  Sweets to the sweet, farewell! 254 I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet’s wife; 255 I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid, 256 And not have strewed thy grave.

Ser ou não ser, eis a questão. O que é mais nobre para a alma? Sofrer as pedradas e as setas da fortuna ultrajosa ou tomar armas contra um mar de tribulações e, fazendo-lhes rosto, dar-lhes fim? Morrer... dormir... mais nada. Dizer que, por meio de um sono, acabamos com as angústias e com os mil embates naturais de que é herdeira a carne é um desfecho que se deve ardentemente desejar. Morrer... dormir... dormir! Sonhar talvez! Ah! Aqui é que está o embaraço. Pois que sonhos podem sobrevir naquele sono da morte depois de nos termos libertado deste bulício mortal? Eis o que nos obriga a fazer pausa; eis a reflexão de que procede a calamidade de uma vida tão longa. Com efeito, quem suportaria os açoites e os escárnios desta época, a injustiça do opressor, a contumélia do orgulhoso, os tormentos do amor desprezado, as dilações da lei, a insolência do poder e os maus tratos que o mérito paciente recebe de criaturas indignas, podendo com um simples punhal outorgar a si mesmo tranquilidade? Quem quereria sopesar o fardo, gemer e suar debaixo de uma vida pesadíssima, se o temor dalguma coisa depois da morte - o desconhecido país de cujas raias nenhum viajante ainda voltou - não enleasse a vontade e não fizesse antes padecer os males que temos, do que voar para outros que ignoramos? Assim, a consciência torna-nos a todos covardes; assim o fulgor natural da resolução é amortecido pelo pálido clarão do pensamento; e, assim, empresas enérgicas e de grande alcance torcem o caminho, e perdem o nome de ação.

Il y a quelque chose de pourri dans le royaume du Danemark.

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal’d thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that Fortune’s buffets and rewards Hast ta’en with equal thanks: and blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for Fortune’s finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.

I have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, oh, most best, believe it.