Twelfth Night Important Quotes

I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.

I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)

O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!

Enough no more; Tis not so sweet now as it was before.

Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure.

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.

Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, than women's are.

So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.

Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

Let still 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 and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn, Than women's are.

That strain again! It had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet as it was before.

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, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'Tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies not plenty; Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.

What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.

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. My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it! My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strewn: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there!

I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better.

Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief

Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.

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.

She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm 'i th' bud, feed on her damask cheek. She pinned in thought; and, with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more; but indeed our shows are more than will; for we still prove much in our vows but little in our love.

Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.

If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.

If music be the food of love, play on.

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?

Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some hire public relations officers.

All's well that ends well.

All is well that ends well