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Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
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
Give
Giving
Trespass
Sweetly
Urged
Juliet
Lips
Sin
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight
William Shakespeare
Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.
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And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.
William Shakespeare
But here's the joy: my friend and I are one, Sweet flattery!
William Shakespeare
Bid the dishonest man mend himself if he mend, he is no longer dishonest.
William Shakespeare
Friendship is constant in all other things, save in the office and affairs of love.
William Shakespeare
The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.
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Friendship's full of dregs.
William Shakespeare
She says I am not fair, that I lack manners She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, Were man as rare as Phoenix.
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Dream in light years, challenge miles, walk step by step
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Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, than women's are.
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Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
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Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears.
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Stars, hide your fires Let not light see my black and deep desires.
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Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.
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Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night.
William Shakespeare
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.
William Shakespeare
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
William Shakespeare
Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down?
William Shakespeare
