William Shakespeare


English Playwright, Poet, Most widely known Writer in English Literature

Author Quotes

Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend.

Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair; and at their heels, a huge infectious troop of pale distemperatures and foes to life.

Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets, and about our task.

Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house: ‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!

Such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff.

Such tricks hath strong imagination That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes; treason is but trusted like the fox, who never so tame, so cherished and locked up, will have a wild trick of his ancestors.

Sweet, above thought I love thee.

Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first: anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you: be to yourself As you would to your friend.

Still to remember wrongs?

Such a house broke? So noble a master fall'n; all gone, and not One friend to take his fortune by the arm And go along with him?

Such war of white and red within her cheeks.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind! The thief doth fear each bush an officer. King Henry the Sixth, Part III (Gloucester at V, vi)

Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, for in this rapture I shall surely speak the thing I shall repent.

Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon, and fightest with the sword of Deborah.

Still you keep o' th' windy side of the law.

Such a nature, tickled with good success, disdains the shadow which he treads on at noon.

Such was the very armor he had on when he the ambitious Norway combated.

Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes.

Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks.

Still, methinks, there is an air comes from her! What fine chisel could ever yet cut breath?

Such a noise arose as the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, as loud and to as many tunes,--hats, cloaks, doublets, I think, flew up; and had their faces been loose, this day they had been lost.

Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. The Merchant of Venice (Shylock at I, iii)

Suspicion, Discontent, and Strife, Come in for Dowrie with a Wife.

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English Playwright, Poet, Most widely known Writer in English Literature