William Shakespeare - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears

Spoken by Mark Antony in Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2

Speech Example Topic / Subject Type: Persuasive Speech.

Mark Antony:

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; 

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him; 
The evil that men do lives after them, 
The good is oft interred with their bones, 
So let it be with Caesar ... The noble Brutus 
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: 
If it were so, it was a grievous fault, 
And grievously hath Caesar answered it ...
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,

(For Brutus is an honourable man; 

So are they all; all honourable men) 
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral ...
He was my friend, faithful and just to me: 
But Brutus says he was ambitious; 
And Brutus is an honourable man…. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: 
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? 
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 
And Brutus is an honourable man. 
You all did see that on the Lupercal 
I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 
And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
But here I am to speak what I do know. 
You all did love him once, not without cause: 
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? 
O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason…. Bear with me; 
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 
And I must pause till it come back to me.
William Shakespeare - Hamlet speech - To be, or not to be

Hamlet Act III, scene I

Hamlet:

To be, or not to be: that is the question: 

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; 
No more; and by a sleep to say we end 
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; 
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect 
That makes calamity of so long life; 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
The insolence of office and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn 
No traveller returns, puzzles the will 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have 
Than fly to others that we know not of? 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment 
With this regard their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of action.
 William Shakespeare speech
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Juliet:
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Romeo:
[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

Juliet:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy:
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,
Nor arm nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O be some other name!
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
and for thy name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.
 William Shakespeare
Merchant of Venice speech
The quality of mercy is not strain'd
William Shakespeare
The Merchant of Venice
Act 4, Scene 1

PORTIA:

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown; 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 

But mercy is above this sceptred sway; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 
That, in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
William Shakespeare - As You Like It speech - All the world's a stage

All the world's a stage

by William Shakespeare
As You Like It
Act 2, Scene 7

JAQUES:

All the world's a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players: 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, 
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, 
In fair round belly with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modern instances; 
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
William Shakespeare - Hamlet speech "Alas, poor Yorick..."

Hamlet by William Shakespeare from Hamlet Act 5, Scene 1

HAMLET: 

Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow 

of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath 
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how 
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at 
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know 
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your 
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, 
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one 
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?

Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let 

her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must 
come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell 
me one thing. .
 William Shakespeare
Henry V speech
Once more unto the breach, dear friends
(Encouraging his troops to take the city of Harfleur in France)
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; 

Or close the wall up with our English dead. 
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man 
As modest stillness and humility: 
But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
Then imitate the action of the tiger; 
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; 

Let pry through the portage of the head 
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it 
As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, 
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit 
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. 
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! 
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, 
Have in these parts from morn till even fought 
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument: 
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest 
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. 
Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman, 
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; 
For there is none of you so mean and base, 
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: 
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge 
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
 William Shakespeare
Macbeth speech
Is this a dagger which I see before me
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
 William Shakespeare - Richard III speech
"Now is the winter of our discontent..."
GLOUCESTER 
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
Clarence comes...
 William Shakespeare - Julius Caesar Speech to Brutus by Cassius
(Cassius is trying to persuade his friend Brutus that Julius Caesar is a tyrant)

Cassius:
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that 'Caesar'?
Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
Now, in the names of all the gods at once,
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed,
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
When went there by an age, since the great flood,
But it was famed with more than with one man?
When could they say till now, that talk'd of Rome,
That her wide walls encompass'd but one man?
Now is it Rome indeed and room enough,
When there is in it but one only man.
O, you and I have heard our fathers say,
There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome
As easily as a king.