Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man.
it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance
Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, While night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some hire public relations officers.
But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.
I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.
I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.
Better be with the dead, Whom we to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.
It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.
Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see
If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well. It were done quickly.
Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail.
Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are!
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
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