All Quotes

"I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness, and the bettering of my mind"

"Like one Who having unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie."

"My library Was dukedom large enough."

"Knowing I lov’d my books, he furnish’d me, From mine own library, with volumes that I prize above my dukedom."

"Know thus far forth: By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune — Now my dear lady — hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop."

"All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds. To thy strong bidding task Ariel, and all his quality."

"Ferdinand, With hair up-staring, — then like reeds, not hair, — was the first man that leapt; cried Hell is empty, And all the devils are here."

"From the still-vex'd Bermoothes."

"I will be correspondent to command, And do my spriting gently."

"Caliban: As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er! Prospero: For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em."

"This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night; and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile. Curs'd be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king."

"You taught me language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you, For learning me your language!"

"If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din."

"Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands; Curt'sied when you have and kiss'd, The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there, And, sweet sprites, the burden bear."

"Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell."

"The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond."

"This Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first That e'er I sigh'd for."

"There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with ’t."

"My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, To whom I am subdu'd, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid. All corners else o' th' earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison."

"Not a mouse stirring."

"And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story, What we have two nights seen."

"When yond same star that’s westward from the pole Had made his course t’ illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, The bell then beating one—"

"It harrows me with fear and wonder."

"What art thou that usurp’st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee speak!"

"But in the gross and scope of mine opinion This bodes some strange eruption to our state."

"A mote it is to trouble the mind’s eye. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood Disasters in the sun; and the moist star Upon whose influence Neptune’s empire stands Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. And even the like precurse of feared events As harbingers preceding still the fates And prologue to the omen coming on, Have heaven and earth together demonstrated Unto our climatures and countrymen."

"Stay, illusion! If thou hast any sound or use of voice, Speak to me. If there be any good thing to be done That may to thee do ease, and grace to me, Speak to me. If thou art privy to thy country’s fate, Which happily foreknowing may avoid, O speak! Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, For which, they say, your spirits oft walk in death, Speak of it, stay and speak!"

"And our vain blows malicious mockery."

"And then it [the ghost] started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day, and at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, Th’ extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine."

"Some say that ever ’gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long, And then they say no spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallowed, and so gracious, is that time."

"But look, the morn in russet mantle clad Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastward hill."

"Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death, The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe."

"Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin."

"O horrible, O horrible! most horrible!"

"Therefore our sometime sister, now our Queen. Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy, With an auspicious and a dropping eye, With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole, Taken to wife."

"The head is not more native to the heart, The hand no more instrumental to the mouth, Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. What wouldst thou have, Laertes?"

"He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome petition, and at last Upon his will, I sealed my hard consent."

"Claudius: But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,— Hamlet: [Aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind. Claudius: How is it that the clouds still hang on you? Hamlet: Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun."

"Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not be forever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust: Thou know'st tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity."

"Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not 'seems.'"

"'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play: But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe."

"O! that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew;"

"How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world."

"Frailty, thy name is woman!"

"O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourned longer----married with my uncle, My father's brother."

"But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!"

"O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: and yet, within a month ---- Let me not think on't ---- Frailty, thy name is woman! ---- A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears:----why she, even she---- O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer----married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month: Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not nor it cannot come to good: But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue."

"Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!"

"In my mind's eye, Horatio."

"He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again."