Quotes Flashcards
A little more than kin…
And less than kind
The plays the thing…
Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king
But that I am forbid to tell secrets of my prison here…
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
What a piece of work is a man who noble in reason…
How infinite infaculties
There is a willow grows aslant the brook…
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream
Now get you to my lady’s chamber and tell her…
Let her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come
No place indeed should murder sanctuarize…
Revenge should have no bounds
And let those that play your clowns…
Speak no more than is set down for them
But look, the mourn in russet mantle clad
Walks o’er the dew of yon high
Give me that man/ that is not passions slave…
And I will wear him
See what’s grace was seated on this brow…
Hyperion’s curls; the front of Jove himself
O god, I could be bounded in a nutshell…
And count myself s king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams
That he is mad, ‘tis true;…
‘Tis true, ‘tis pity
Murder most foul and in the best it is…
But this most foul, strange and unnatural
Rightly to be great/Is not…
To stir without great argument
