| Quote | Character | Act/Scene |
|---|
| If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear l | |
| I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit. | |
| I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing and bear-baiting. O! had I but followed the arts! | |
| Is it a world to hide virtues in? | |
| Thy small pipe is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, and all is semblative a woman's part. | |
| Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage. | |
| He is very well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him. | |
| 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive if you will lead these graces to the grave and leave | |
| Make me a willow cabin at your gate, and call upon my soul within the house; write loyal cantons of contemned love and sing them loud even in the dead of night; halloo your name to | |
| Not to be a-bed after midnight is to be up betimes. | |
| O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, that can sing both high and low: trip no further, pretty sweeting; journeys end in lovers meeting | |
| What is love? 'tis not hereafter; present mirth hath present laughter; what's to come is still unsure: in delay there lies no plenty; then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, youth's a | |
| Am I not consanguineous? am I not of her blood? | |
| He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. | |
| Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? | |
| Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? | |
| My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. | |
| I was adored once too. | |
| Let still the woman take an elder than herself: so wears she to him, so sways she level in her husband's heart: for, boy, however we do praise ourselves, our fancies are more giddy | |
| Then let thy love be younger than thyself, or thy affection cannot hold the bent. | |
| The spinsters and the knitters in the sun. | |
| Come away, come away, death, and in sad cypress let me be laid; fly away, fly away breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. | |
| Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. | |
| My father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. | |
| A blank, my lord. She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she s | |
| I am all the daughters of my father's house, and all the brothers too. | |
| Now is the woodcock near the gin. | |
| I may command where I adore. | |
| | Quote | Character | Act/Scene |
|---|
| But be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. | |
| Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered. | |
| Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript. | |
| This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, and to do that well craves a kind of wit. | |
| O world! how apt the poor are to be proud. | |
| O! What a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger of his lip. | |
| Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. | |
| You are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard. | |
| As many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down: go, about it. | |
| Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. | |
| Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes. | |
| He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies. | |
| I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. | |
| Why, this is very midsummer madness. | |
| Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I am not of your element. | |
| If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. | |
| More matter for a May morning. | |
| Still you keep o' the windy side of the law. | |
| Nay, let me alone for swearing. | |
| I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood. | |
| I snatched one half out of the jaws of death. | |
| In nature there's no blemish but the mind; none can be called deformed but the unkind. | |
| Leave thy vain bibble-babble. | |
| Why have you suffered me to be imprisoned, kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, and made the most notorious geck and gull that e'er invention played on? Tell me why. | |
| Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. | |
| I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. | |
| When that I was and a little tiny boy, with hey, ho, the wind and the rain, a foolish thing was but a toy, for the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate, with | |
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