To die, to sleep - to sleep, perchance to dream, ay there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life.

quote by William Shakespeare
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Love

TELL me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
   Reply, reply.
It is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
   Let us all ring Fancy's knell:
   I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell.
All. Ding, dong, bell.

poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

John of Gaunt: O, but they say the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention like deep harmony:
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.

lines from the play Richard II, Act II, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1595)
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.

quote by William Shakespeare
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Juliet: Give me my Romeo. And when I shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.

classic line from the play Romeo and Juliet, Act III, Scene 2, script by William Shakespeare (1597)
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Juliet: Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Romeo: It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.
Night‘s candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Juliet: Yon light is not daylight, I know it, I:
It is some meteor that the sun exhal‘d,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on thy way to Mantua.
Therefore stay yet; thou need‘st not to be gone.
Romeo: Let me be ta‘en, let me be put to death;
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.
I‘ll say yon grey is not the morning‘s eye,
‘Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia‘s brow;

[...] Read more

classic lines from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day

If thou survive my well-contented day
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover,
Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
"Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought
To march in ranks of better equipage;
But since he died and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love."

poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Aaron: No, madam, these are no venereal signs:
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.

lines from the play Titus Andronicus, Act II, Scene 3, script by William Shakespeare (1593)
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor.

quote by William Shakespeare
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.

quote by William Shakespeare
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

First Senator: My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault's
Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die:
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

lines from the play Timon of Athens, Act III, Scene 5, script by William Shakespeare (1606)
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Shylock: If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

line from the play The Merchant of Venice, Act III, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1598)
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Dirge of the Three Queens

URNS and odours bring away!
   Vapours, sighs, darken the day!
Our dole more deadly looks than dying;
   Balms and gums and heavy cheers,
   Sacred vials fill'd with tears,
And clamours through the wild air flying!

   Come, all sad and solemn shows,
   That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes!
   We convent naught else but woes.

poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; and if I die no soul will pity me: and wherefore should they, since that I myself find in myself no pity to myself?

William Shakespeare in Richard III
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disablèd
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill.
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that to die, I leave my love alone.

poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Hamlet: Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?

classic line from the play Hamlet, Act III, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Added by Dan Costinaş
1 comment - Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sonnet LXVI

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,

And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,

And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:

Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

poem by William Shakespeare (1609)
Added by anonym
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers.... There is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.

William Shakespeare in The Merry Wives of Windsor
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Ferdinand: Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
The endeavor of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge
And make us heirs of all eternity.

opening line from the play Love's Labour's Lost, Act I, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1598)
Added by Dan Costinaş
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Sonnet 6: Then let not winter's ragged hand deface

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled.
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one,
Ten times thy self were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee;
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

poem by William Shakespeare
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!