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O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school And though she be but little, she is fierce.
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
Little
Keen
Halloween
Fierce
Angry
Went
Vixen
Though
Vixens
School
Shrewd
Littles
Midsummer
More quotes by William Shakespeare
For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.
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I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon than keep a corner in the thing I love for others uses.
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If love be blind, it best agrees with night
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Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.
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The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e' er the sun shone bright on.
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O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
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You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
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Can one desire too much of a good thing?
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It is a heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in it.
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I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face.
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Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
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Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice.
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Nay, had I pow'r, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
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Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
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Titus Andronicus, my lord the Emperor Sends thee this word, that, if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand And send it to the King: he for the same Will send thee hither both thy sons alive, And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
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Who can control his fate?
William Shakespeare
Ay beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
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Full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
William Shakespeare
A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain,... makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes.
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Love is your master, for he masters you And he that is so yoked by a fool Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.
William Shakespeare
