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Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?
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
Tell
Heart
Shylock
Bred
Merchants
Venice
Fancy
Head
Inspirational
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Remembrance of things past.
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Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
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Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
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I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
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The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.
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The rest, is silence.
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I'll privily away I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does not affect it.
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But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offense, Crying, 'That's good that's gone.
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The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.
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We make trifles of terrors, Ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, When we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
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Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite, Encompassed with thy lustful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
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And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
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Love is too young to know what conscience is.
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Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
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More of your conversation would infect my brain.
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First Witch He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
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Memory, the warder of the brain.
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For there was never yet philosoper That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance.
William Shakespeare
Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.
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And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.
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