The Library: Revised and Condensed
Rum and whiskey acquaint a man with strange bed-fellows. Last night, the bed was a mile from my home, the fellow was my wife’s hairdresser Stan—and judging by the stains on his sheets, I’d say we had ourselves a very busy night.
Is England ready for a man with a ponytail? I shall find out tomorrow.
My wife caught me playing with my pipe last night—and as you (and by you I mean me) might imagine, she overreacted as usual and threatened to divorce me.
To flee, or not to flee—that is the question I ask myself every time my wife breaks into one of her nag-a-thon sessions. And after last night’s episode, I’m seriously thinking about fleeing permanently. I mean, the lady doth protest so much that methinks a few more weeks of this will send me straight to the fucking nuthouse.
Methinks the people quote “the lady doth protest too much” too much.
If I hear one more person say “the lady doth protest too much,” methinks I will delete that fucking line from me fucking play.
Julius Caesar bombed big time. And the fault, methinks, is not in our stars, but in the Jews, and, to a lesser extent, the critics.
Macbeth made a killing last night. But I’m still pissed at the Jews.
What’s in a name? A lot, apparently. I mean, my wife is unwilling to “pee on” me, but she’s given me quite a few “golden showers” over the years.
We just released my remake of a remake of a remake of a remake of an Italian love tale based on an old porno film called Where Foreplay Starts Now. Let’s just hope the remakes stop here.
All the world’s a brothel, and all the men and women merely whores. That’s the main lesson I’ve learned over my life.
This is the short of it: My longing for some quick sex led to a very long night at the police station.
This is the long of it: Shortly after __ rehearsal,
As you (and by you I mean me) know, I’m something of a butt man.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!
And last night, I was just about ready to flee the fuck out of Stratford and to freedom, only I was a bit too drunk to actually carry out the plan.
Not that I love my wife less, but that I hate everything more
I’ll give that piece of doo-doo his due
Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest
Do-est, screwest
I figured England
Today, I entered the ranks of
/the guy who played Othello__
I learned a valuable lesson today
Iambic Pentameter
make my grand escape for good.
it looked like the answer would be “to flee”
The common curse of mankind
Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't.
That it should come to this!
What a piece of shit is that man!
Unfortunatley __ is me / I am that man 5% of the time
"What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!
True is it that we have seen better days
Now is the winter of our discontent
A horse! a horse! Of course! of course!
Off with his head!
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun
Good Night, Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast
Tempt not a desperate man
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see.
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?
Wrong them while making them think they’re ebing
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose
As good luck would have it
He hath eaten me out of house and home
I hath eaten her out in
A man can die but once
I 'll not budge an inch
We have seen better days
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him
But, for my own part, it was Greek to me
A dish fit for the gods
Et tu, Brute!
what 's done is done
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Out, damned spot! out, I say!
There 's daggers in men's smiles
I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at
The game is up
I have not slept one wink
You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely
Out of the jaws of death