Quote

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!

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
Degrees
Tales
Condemns
Conscience
Several
Stern
Thousand
Guilty
Tongues
High
Degree
Tale
Every
Murder
Villain
Tongue
Crying
Brings
Hath
Throng
Cry
Bars
Perjury

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I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered.
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Proper deformity shows not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
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One man in his time plays many parts.
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
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Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords!
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Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.
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After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.
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O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
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Sweetest nut hath sourest rind.
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What man dare, I dare. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.
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And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.
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This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin there shall I end My life is run his compass.
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Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin and sin that amends is but patched with virtue.
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Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
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This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
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Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear for several virtues Have I liked several women never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil.
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Forget, forgive conclude, and be agreed.
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He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
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On your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep As is the difference betwixt day and night The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the east.
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