William Shakespeare

Tut, a pin!

The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise!

On my life, my lord, a bubble.

Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!

excellent dumb discourse.

let him be clapp’d on the shoulder, and call’d Adam.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet

Then if you speak, you must not show your face

’Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more ’twill be eleven. And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.

The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

What is’t o’clock?

Sick, O, sick!

He knows not what he says, and vain is it That we present us to him.

Stew’d in corruption

I pray you mar no more trees

But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing

The taper burneth in your closet, sir.

I would detain you here some month or two

But stay, I smell a man of middle-earth.

why should we be tender To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us

That you are both decipher’d, that’s the news, For villains mark’d with rape.

But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.

I’ll make you quiet, what!

[Enter Lady Macbeth.]

remember He was paid for that.

our sometime sister, now our queen

Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia

Come back, fool.

Would I could find a fine frog!

Elizabeth!

I will denounce a curse upon his head.

Learn this, Thomas

Come sing me a bawdy song, make me merry.

You are at point to lose your liberties.

if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street

a king of shreds and patches

Why, it contains no king.

Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear and have their heads crush’d like rotten apples!

he went willful-slow

A play in five acts, by @shakespeare.lol

[Exit Katherina.]

By falsehood and corruption doth it shame

truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

Now Phaëton hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide prick.

Prithee, Kate, let’s stand aside and see the end of this controversy.

I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sickness, for it is my office, And will have no attorney but myself

’tis with false sorrow’s eye, Which for things true weeps things imaginary.

An idiot holds his bauble for a god

Will you any thing with it?

Since thou wert king—as who is king but thou?⁠— The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack