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O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
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
Heaven
Would
Ascend
Brightest
Inventor
Inventing
Muse
Invention
Fire
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.
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Men must learn now with pity to dispense For policy sits above conscience.
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The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
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He makes a July's day short as December.
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Why, I can smile and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'content' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face for all occasions
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Cease thy counsel, for thy words fall into my ears as priceless as water into a seive.
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As chaste as unsunned snow.
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I heard a bustling rumor like a fray, And the wind blows it from the Capitol.
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Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.
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Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.
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He that keeps not crust nor crum Weary of all, shall want some.
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In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.
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And thence from Athens turn away our eyes To seek new friends and stranger companies.
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Let the end try the man.
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Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.
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To you your father should be as a god One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it.
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Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
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Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.
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Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
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A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff.
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