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As he was valiant, I honour him. But as he was ambitious, I slew him.
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
Countrymen
Ambitious
Honour
Ambition
Funny
Life
Slew
Julius
Valiant
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!
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Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
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A peace is of the nature of a conquest for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.
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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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But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
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I cannot speak your england.
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Time is the king of men.
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I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
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Men that make Envy and crooked malice nourishment, Dare bite the best.
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Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.
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My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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Adversity makes strange bedfellows.
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For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
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Live how we can, yet die we must.
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I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world.
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What is thy sentence then but speechless death.
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As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
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Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
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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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We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.
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