Thou Shakespeare Quotes & Sayings

The hate I bear thee can afford no better term then this: thou art a villian. — William Shakespeare

Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom! — William Shakespeare

One of the popular songs in Tyler's rebellion was the familiar couplet: "When Adam delved and Eve span, Who was then the gentleman?" Shakespeare refers to it in "Hamlet," where the grave-diggers speak as follows: "First Clown. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentleman but gardners, ditchers and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. Second Clown. Was he a gentleman? First Clown. He was the first that ever bore arms. Second Clown. Why, he had none. First Clown. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture says, Adam digged; could he dig without arms?" (Act 5, — William Shakespeare

Aemilianus Shchekochikhin I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
Love sought is good, but given unsought better. — William Shakespeare

Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor-John. — William Shakespeare

I'll read enough
When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
Give me that glass and therein will I read.
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine
And made no deeper wounds?
O flattering glass,
Like to my followers in prosperity
Thou dost beguile me! — William Shakespeare

Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,
To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:
'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;
Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay. — William Shakespeare

To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if tou art mov'd, thou runst away. (To be angry is to move, to be brave is to stand still. Therefore, if you're angry, you'll run away.) — William Shakespeare

Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits.
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook
Unless the deed go with it. From this moment
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now,
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done — William Shakespeare

How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath
To say to me that thou art out of breath? — William Shakespeare

[ ... ] Villain I am none.
Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not. — William Shakespeare

Madman, thou errest. I say, there is no darkness but ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. — William Shakespeare

And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold the great image of authority: a dog's obeyed in office.
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand.
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back.
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tattered clothes great vices do appear;
Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks.
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
None does offend - none, I say, none. I'll able 'em.
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes,
And like a scurvy politician seem
To see the things thou dost not. — William Shakespeare

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change. — William Shakespeare

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montegue, what is montegue? tis nor hand nor foot nor any other part belonging to a man
What is in a name?
That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,
So Romeo would were he not Romeo called retain such dear perfection to which he owes without that title,
Romeo, Doth thy name!
And for that name which is no part of thee, take all thyself. — William Shakespeare

For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. — William Shakespeare

I am not mad: I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: O, if I could, what grief should I forget! Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal; — William Shakespeare

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing, of nothing first create!
O heavy lightness! Serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh? — William Shakespeare

O hateful error, melancholy's child. Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O error soon22 conceived, 70 Thou never comest unto a happy birth, But kill'st the mother that engendered23 thee. — William Shakespeare

Romeo was late. Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo ... I snorted. It was so loud it startled a girl at a nearby table.
- Rimmel — Cambria Hebert

CLOWN. Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits; and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. — William Shakespeare

We understand not one another: I am too courtly, and thou art too cunning. At — William Shakespeare

For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.
How can I then be elder than thou art? — William Shakespeare

And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? — William Shakespeare

First Witch He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought. — William Shakespeare

Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood. — William Shakespeare

Thou art a very ragged Wart. — William Shakespeare

Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood. — William Shakespeare

God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish. — William Shakespeare

What e'er thou art, act well thy part. — William Shakespeare

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. — William Shakespeare

O war! thou son of Hell! — William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
E'en in Australia art thou still more hot
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
(Since that's your winter it don't mean a lot)
Sometimes too bright the eye of heaven shines
And bushfires start through half of New South Wales
Just so, when I do see thy bosom's lines
A fire consumes me and my breathing fails
But thine eternal summer shall not fade
This is in no way due to global warming;
Nay, from thy breasts shall verses fair be made
So damn compulsive they are habit-forming
So long as men can read and eyes can see
So long lives this, thou 34DD
(Based on an idea by William Shakespeare. I'm sure he'd agree that I've improved it) — Manny Rayner

Be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's and truth's. — William Shakespeare

Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness! — William Shakespeare

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation. — William Shakespeare

Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor?
Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest.
Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart.
Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself. — William Shakespeare

Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmed pot. — William Shakespeare

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! Where got'st thou that goose look? — William Shakespeare

O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? — William Shakespeare

O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come. — William Shakespeare

How now, my sweet creature of bombast! How long is't ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thien own knee? — William Shakespeare

What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time? — William Shakespeare

A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a
base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,
hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a
lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a
bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but
the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,
and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest
the least syllable of thy addition. — William Shakespeare

Thou art the Mars of malcontents. — William Shakespeare

SILVIUS: How many actions most ridiculous/Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?
CORIN: Into a thousand that I have forgotten.
SILVIUS: O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!/If thou remember'st not the slightest folly/That ever love did make thee run into,/Thou hast not loved:/Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,/Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,/Thou hast not loved ... — William Shakespeare

But hear thee, Gratiano:
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice -
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear no faults,
But where thou art not known, why, there they show
Something too liberal. — William Shakespeare

The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody: Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome. — William Shakespeare

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. — William Shakespeare

Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy:
This wide and universal theatre
Presents more woeful pageants than the scene
Wherein we play in. — William Shakespeare

Lady Macduff: Now God help thee, poor monkey! But
how wilt thou do for a father?

Son: If he were dead, you'd weep for him. If you would
not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a
new father. — William Shakespeare

If thou remeber'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not lov'd — William Shakespeare

Nay, Nay! Try thou not.
But do thou or do thou not,
For there is no try. — Ian Doescher

What courage, man! What though care killed a cat? Thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. — William Shakespeare

Treason and murder ever kept together, As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, Working so grossly in a natural cause That admiration did not whoop at them; But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder; And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence. — William Shakespeare

But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart;but it is no matter. — William Shakespeare

Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men? — William Shakespeare

I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. — William Shakespeare

Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,
Drink off this potion! — William Shakespeare

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness? — William Shakespeare

Thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and beast. — William Shakespeare

Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. — William Shakespeare

Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, to comfort thee, though thou art banished. Friar Lawrence to Romeo. — William Shakespeare

Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard,
A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark
Is by a forged process of my death
Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth,
The serpent that did sting thy father's life
Now wears his crown. — William Shakespeare

Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure; let us be jocund — William Shakespeare

If thou didst ever thy dear father love - Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder — William Shakespeare

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful — William Shakespeare

For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! — William Shakespeare

I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something. — William Shakespeare

Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both. — William Shakespeare

Tam: What begg'st thou then? fond woman, let me go.
Lav: 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more That womanhood denies my tongue to tell.
O! keep me from their worse than killing lust,
And tumble me into some loathsome pit,
Where never man's eye may behold my body:
Do this, and be a charitable murderer.
Tam: So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee:
No, let them satisfy their lust on thee.
Dem: Away! for thou hast stay'd us here too long.
Lav: No grace! no womanhood! Ah, beastly creature,
The blot and enemy to our general name.
Confusion fall - — William Shakespeare

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring [making music] to the young-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it. — William Shakespeare

There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murder in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. — William Shakespeare

Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. — William Shakespeare

Come, swear it, damn thyself, lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves should fear to seize thee; therefore be double-damned, swear,
thou art honest. — William Shakespeare

Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift; Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, I'll tell thee thou dost evil. — William Shakespeare

You aren't in the ivy halls of your miserable literature pursuit now. Without wasting more time, will thou cometh to the pointeth? Dost thou wanteth us to stayeth or leaveth? — Pawan Mishra

O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been. — William Shakespeare

Thou talk'st of nothing." "True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasty; Which is as thin of substance as the air; And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face t the dew-dropping south. — William Shakespeare

Clown: Good Madonna, why mournest thou?
Olivia: Good Fool, for my brother's death.
Clown:I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.
Olivia:I know his soul is in heaven, Fool.
Clown: The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. — William Shakespeare

Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee. — William Shakespeare

- Be thou not technical with me,/Or else thine input valve may swift receive/a hearty helping of my golden foot. — Ian Doescher

Methinks thou dost protest too much."
"And me thinks that guys who spout Shakespeare should be smacked in the face with a two by four," Jeremy shot back. — S.E. Culpepper

Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow;
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage. — William Shakespeare

O mischief, thou art swift to enter in the hearts of desperate men! — William Shakespeare

The tender spring upon thy tempting lip
Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted:
Make use of time, let not advantage slip;
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:
Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime
Rot and consume themselves in little time. — William Shakespeare

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And Death once dead, there's no more dying then. - WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE — J.D. Robb

Mark it, nuncle.
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest,
Set less than thou throwest,
Leave thy drink and thy whore
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score. — William Shakespeare

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery? — William Shakespeare

O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having ... — William Shakespeare

Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft. — William Shakespeare

And while thou
livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and
uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee
right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other
places: for these fellows of infinite tongue, that
can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours, they do
always reason themselves out again. What! a
speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A
good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a
black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow
bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax
hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the
moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon; for it
shines bright and never changes, but keeps his
course truly. If thou would have such a one, take
me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier,
take a king. And what sayest thou then to my love?
speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee — William Shakespeare

Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross. — William Shakespeare

Mistrust of good success hath done this deed.
O hateful error, Melancholy's child,
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men
The things that are not? O Error, soon concieved,
Thou never com'st unto a happy birth,
But kill'st the mother that engendered thee. — William Shakespeare

Against an oath; the truth thou art unsure. — William Shakespeare

Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home:
Is this a holiday? what! know you not,
Being mechanical, you ought not walk
Upon a labouring day without the sign
Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? — William Shakespeare

Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity. — William Shakespeare

O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight!
... Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love's eye is not so true as all men's 'No.'
How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true,
That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?
No marvel then, though I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.
O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.
- Shakespeare's Sonnet 148 — William Shakespeare

But Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me?"
Catherine: "I cannot tell."
Henry: "Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them. — William Shakespeare

Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure. — William Shakespeare