All WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Quotes about “Flowers”

“Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.”
“What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
“Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.”
“He wears the rose Of youth upon him.”
“This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet”
“These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.”
“Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.”
“Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.”
“Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.”
“I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks.”
“He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.”
“The lily I condemned for thy hand, And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, One blushing shame, another white despair; A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth A vengeful canker eat him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.”
“His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise.”
“Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.”
“The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season.”
“There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.”

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