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She speaks poniards, and every word stabs.
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
Stabs
Benedick
Speaks
Word
Speak
Every
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Ay, is it not a language I speak?
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A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing.
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Comets importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky And with them scourge the bad revolting stars.
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Constant you are, But yet a woman and for secrecy, No lady closer for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know.
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In persons grafted in a serious trust, Negligence is a crime.
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When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
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Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
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Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
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Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.
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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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If by chance I talk a little wild, forgive me I had it from my father.
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I have heard of your paintings too, well enough God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
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Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute.
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Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
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To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.
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Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
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O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, to drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
William Shakespeare
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!
William Shakespeare
But I will be, A bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a lover's bed.
William Shakespeare
