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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?
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Wrong
Organs
Poison
Jew
Shylock
Revenge
Tickling
Laugh
Tickle
Laughing
Bleed
Shall
Merchants
Dies
Venice
More quotes by William Shakespeare
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To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.
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Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction * * * I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience.
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But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.
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Where the bee sucks, there suck I In the cow-slip's bell i lie There I couch when owls do cry
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Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.
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He kills her in her own humor.
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Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
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I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.
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I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
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As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife.
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O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
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Their understanding Begins to swell and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores That now lie foul and muddy.
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I will despair, and be at enmity With cozening hope.
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
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Farewell, fair cruelty.
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Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.
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He that dies pays all debts.
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The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.
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