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O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
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
Venice
Dishonesty
Falsehood
Hath
Outside
Lying
Shylock
Goodly
Merchants
More quotes by William Shakespeare
If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
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My master hath been an honorable gentleman tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.
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A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.
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Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Ophelia: No, my lord. Hamlet: DId you think I meant country matters? Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord. Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. Ophelia: What is, my lord? Hamlet: Nothing.
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Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions.
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I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
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When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner
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The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
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Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
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Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
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Are there no stones in heaven But what serves for thunder?
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The sense of death is most in apprehension.
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Lord, what fools these mortals be!
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Swift as shadow, short as any dream
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Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks
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I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.
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Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die!
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When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
William Shakespeare
Remembrance of things past.
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Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
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