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He is winding the watch of his wit by and by it will strike.
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
Tempest
Strike
Wit
Memorable
Strikes
Watches
Watch
Winding
More quotes by William Shakespeare
This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.
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She is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold.
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Give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.
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There's husbandry in heaven Their candles are all out.
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Demetrius: Villain, what hast thou done? Aaron: That which thou canst not undo. Chiron: Thou hast undone our mother. Aaron: Villain, I have done thy mother.
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Methinks a father Is at the nuptial of his son a guest That best becomes the table.
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It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection.
William Shakespeare
For a noble heart, the most precious gift becomes poor, when the giver stops loving.
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Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.
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I wonder men dare trust themselves with men.
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Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.
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Swift as shadow, short as any dream
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Life is as tedious as twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
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Thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.
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Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
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I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
William Shakespeare
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.
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This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.
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And she's fair I love.
William Shakespeare