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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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
Love
Parting
Morrow
Till
Sorrow
Sweet
Shall
Goodnight
Night
Infatuation
Good
Juliet
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Faith, stay here this night they will surely do us no harm you saw they speak us fair, give us gold methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch.
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The head is not more native to the heart.
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When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.
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You taught me language, and my profit on't / Is, I know how to curse
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This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight.
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For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
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Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
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Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
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Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
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Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
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A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
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'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.
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These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
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Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep.
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Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.
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Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality.
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The quality of mercy is not strained
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O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.
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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?
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