William Shakespeare Quotes

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

Let but the commons hear this testament,
Which (pardon me) I do not mean to read,
And read more

Let but the commons hear this testament,
Which (pardon me) I do not mean to read,
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;
Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,
And dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy
Upon their issue.

Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.

Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
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Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
The best I had, a princess wrought it me--
And I did never ask it you again;
And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time,
Saying, 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?'

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
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Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.

If you can look into the seeds of time
And say which grain will grow and which will not,
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If you can look into the seeds of time
And say which grain will grow and which will not,
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear
Your favors nor your hate.

Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain:
As, read more

Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain:
As, painfully to pore upon a book,
To seek the light of truth, which truth the while
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.

But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, read more

But that our feasts
In every mess have folly, and the feeders
Digest it with a custom, I should blush
To see you so attired, swoon, I think,
To show myself a glass.