Quote

But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them. Viola: Thy reason, man? Feste: Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

William Shakespeare

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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Indeed
Vows
None
Truthfully
Prove
Vow
Since
Loathe
Words
Bonds
Troth
Reason
Yield
Disgraced
Without
Grown
Viola
Men
False
Rascals

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As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, at turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to centre.
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If she be not honest, chaste, and true, there's no man happy.
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O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.
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The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits.
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We suffer a lot the few things we lack and we enjoy too little the many things we have.
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Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
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Give sorrow words the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
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Come, go with us, speak fair you may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the los Of what is past.
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Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. (Benedick, from Much Ado About Nothing)
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
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I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
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And oft, my jealousy shapes faults that are not.
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Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.
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Give thy thoughts no tongue.
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And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.
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In right and service to their noble country.
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But love is blind and lovers cannot see
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I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.
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