His jest shall savour but a shallow wit, when thousands more weep than did laugh it.

Unsex me here and fill me from crown to toe full of direst cruelty That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose.” Macbeth

From this day to the ending of the world,But we in it shall be remembered-We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;For he to-day that sheds his blood with meShall be my brother; be...

If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.

The curse of true love never did run smooth.

Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.

Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.

Sweets to the sweet.

The summer’s flower is to the summer sweetThough to itself it only live and die

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,So do our minutes hasten to their end;Each changing place with that which goes before,In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

The small amount of foolery wise men have makes a great show.

His life was gentle; and the elementsSo mixed in him, that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!

For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say, I cannot speak him home: he stopp’d the fliers; And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport: as weeds before A...

Thought is free.

Cucullus non facit monachum; that’s as much to say, as I wear not motley in my brain.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,Men were deceivers ever,-One foot in sea and one on shore,To one thing constant never.

I do believe you think what now you speak,But what we do determine oft we break.Purpose is but the slave to memory,Of violent birth, but poor validity,Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree,But...

I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment.

My brain I’ll prove the female to my soul; my soul the father: and these two beget a generation of still-breeding thoughts, and these same thoughts people this little world.

All things are ready, if our mind be so.

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.

When we our betters see bearing our woes,We scarcely think our miseries our foes.

Opinion’s but a fool, that makes us scan the outward habit by the inward man.

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

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thyeyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living?Beatrice: Is it possible disdain should die while she hathsuch meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?

Some are born great, others achieve greatness.

Thou whoreson zed! Thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. *all cheer for Shakespearean...

Dame los puñales; los que duermen y los muertos no son sino sombras; únicamente los ojos de los niños tiemblan ante una estampa del diablo.

Omittance is no quittance.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind

Your tale sir, would cure deafness

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;Make dust our paper and with rainy eyesWrite sorrow on the bosom of the earth,Let’s choose executors and talk of wills

There’s an old saying that applies to me: you can’t lose a game if you don’t play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)

From women’s eyes this doctrine I derive:They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;They are the books, the arts, the academes,That show, contain and nourish all the world.

…and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,Thy head, thy sovereign, one that cares for thee,And for thy maintenance; commits his bodyTo painful labor, both by sea and land;To watch the night in storms,...

Verily, I swear, ’tis better to be lowly born, and range with humble livers in content, than to be perk’d up in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.

Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.

Journeys end in lovers meeting.

To be or not to be that is the question.

I know you all, and will awhile uphold the unyoked humour of your idleness . . .

Thy best of rest is sleep,And that thou oft provok’st; yet grossly fear’stThy death, which is no more.

Nought’s had, all’s spent, where our desire is got without content.

What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,That he should weep for her?

Women may fail when there is no strength in man