William Shakespeare


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

Author Quotes

Shylock: Is it so nominated in the bond? Portia: It is not so express'd, but what of that? 'Twere good you do so much for charity. Shylock: I cannot find it: 'tis not in the bond.

Since brevity is the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes--I will be brief.

Since, then, my office hath so far prevailed That, face to face and royal eye to eye, You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand before this royal view, What rub or what impediment there is Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not, in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage.

Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book. He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. His intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts.

Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

Sleep shall neither night nor day hang upon his penthouse lid; he shall live a man forbid; weary sev'n-nights, nine times nine, shall he dwindle, peak and pine; though his bark cannot be lost, yet it shall be tempest-tossed.

SNUG: Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me; for I am slow of study. QUINCE: You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.

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.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

So quick bright things come to confusion.

So the gods bless me, when all our offices have been oppressed with riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept with drunken spilth of wine, when every room hath blazed with lights and brayed with minstrelsy, I have retired me to a wasteful cock and set mine eyes at flow.

So, haply, slander — whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to his blank, transports his poisoned shot — may miss our name and hit the woundless air. — O, come away! My soul is full of discord and dismay.

Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail, A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, A nut, a cherry stone; But she, more covetous, would have a chain. Master, be wise; and if you give it her, The devil will shake her chain and fright us with it.

Some there be that shadow's kiss, and have but a shadow's bliss. There be fools alive, silver'd o'er, and so was this. Take what wife you will to bed, I will ever be your head: so be gone; you are sped. The Merchant of Venice (Arragon at II, ix)

Sorrow and grief of heart makes him speak fondly like a frantic man.

Speak me fair in death.

Splitting the air with noise.

She was false as water.

Shine comforts from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight From these that my poor company detest; And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.

Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.

Since Cleopatra died, I have liv’d in such dishonour, that the gods detest my baseness.

Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote; spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, and as a bed I'll take them, and there lie.

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it.

Sirrah, your Father's dead: And what will you do now? How will you live? SON: As birds do, mother.L. MACDUFF: What with worms and flies? SON: With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

Sleep she as sound as careless infancy.

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