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I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.
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
Life
Kisses
Emperor
Lady
Kissing
Lips
Dead
Revived
Came
Dreamt
Found
Breathed
More quotes by William Shakespeare
If love be blind, it best agrees with night
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I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so.
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And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.
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Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!
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Old fashions please me best I am not so nice To change true rules for odd inventions.
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O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.
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If [God] send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening.
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He's a soldier and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
William Shakespeare
Well, I must be patient there is no fettering of authority.
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Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy!
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The fool multitude, that choose by show, not learning more than the fond eye doth teach.
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There is a law in each well-ordered nation To curb those raging appetites that are Most disobedient and refractory.
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Unless the old adage must be verified, That beggars mounted, run their horse to death.
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How wayward is this foolish love that, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse and presently, all humble, kiss the rod.
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He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat.
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Oh, that way madness lies let me shun that.
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And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
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QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman I have a beard coming.
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On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.
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Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, While night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
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