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He that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail.
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
Juliet
Sail
Hath
Direct
Courses
Course
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
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I see men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
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To be, or not to be, that is the question.
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O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. - Romeo -
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Why should honor outlive honestly? Orthello
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I am your wife if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me, but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.
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The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.
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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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We that are true lovers run into strange capers but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.
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The poorest service is repaid with thanks.
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O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect The thoughts of others!
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Tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home.
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I will be free, even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
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GLOUCESTER: Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But God be thanked. . . .
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Words to deeds cold breath gives.
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A wicked conscience mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
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Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.
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Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
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