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Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
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
Friendless
Alas
Hopeless
Woman
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I humbly do beseech of your pardon, For too much loving you
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Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
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Opinion crowns with an imperial voice.
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Are there no stones in heaven But what serves for thunder?
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What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.
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You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you And here remain with your uncertainty!
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A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool! a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
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But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
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Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
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And do as adversaries do in law, strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
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So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
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Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.
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I can no longer live by thinking.
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Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
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A flock of blessings light upon thy back
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Then others for breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
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Old Time the clock-setter.
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Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down?
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When beggars die, there are no comets seen the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
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What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.
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