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A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
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
Bawling
Blasphemous
Pox
Tempest
Throat
Dog
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Every subject's duty is the Kings, but every subject's soul is his own.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
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By being seldom seen, I could not stir But like a comet I was wondered at.
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The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately— long love doth so.
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You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.
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Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.
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Why, thou deboshed fish thou...Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?
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Where hateful Death put on his ugliest mask.
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Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
William Shakespeare
No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger.
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Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.
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There is a history in all men's lives.
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What's his offense? Groping for trout in a peculiar river.
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The seeming truth which cunning times put on to entrap the wisest.
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That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
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Speak comfortable words.
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She will die if you love her not, And she will die ere she might make her love known
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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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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
William Shakespeare
The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.
William Shakespeare
