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His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.
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
Jest
Oath
Weep
Shallow
Wit
Thousands
Laugh
Laughing
Savour
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
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Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.
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The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
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For I am nothing if not critical.
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A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day.
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The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.
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A dream itself is but a shadow.
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England is safe, if true within itself.
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He hath disgrac'd me and hind'red me half a million laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my enemies. And what's his reason? I am a Jew.
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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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The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
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Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
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He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.
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I came, saw, and overcame.
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God shall be my hope, my stay, my guide and lantern to my feet.
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Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
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Minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!
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Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions.
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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil
William Shakespeare
