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We will have rings and things and fine array
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
Fine
Things
Shrews
Array
Rings
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He is not worthy of the honey-comb, that shuns the hives because the bees have stings.
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How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms!
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My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
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For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
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A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.
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true apothecary thy drugs art quick
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Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.
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Soft pity enters an iron gate.
William Shakespeare
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.
William Shakespeare
Which means she to deceive, father or mother?
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I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)
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Ay, Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
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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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O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.
William Shakespeare
He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.
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If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue.
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Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
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There is Throats to be cut, and Works to be done.
William Shakespeare
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud.
William Shakespeare
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
William Shakespeare
