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It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.
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
Fair
Hurt
Words
Give
Giving
Hurts
Fairs
Tongue
More quotes by William Shakespeare
They say, the tongues of dying men Enforce attention, like deep harmony Where words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain.
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He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.
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The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. - Romeo
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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle I am no traitor's uncle, and that word grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane.
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And he goes through life, his mouth open, and his mind closed.
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wondered at, and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast.
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I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.
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Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
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Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won?
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The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.
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Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
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Now I will believe that there are unicorns.
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Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.
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If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
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Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
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Things at the worst will cease or else climb upward To what they were before.
William Shakespeare
There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.
William Shakespeare
France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot.
William Shakespeare
Ambition, the soldier's virtue.
William Shakespeare
