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These times of woe afford no time to woo.
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
Afford
Times
Time
Woe
More quotes by William Shakespeare
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.
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Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.
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My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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Things at the worst will cease or else climb upward To what they were before.
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Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.
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Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.
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A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
William Shakespeare
Be not afeard the isle is full of noises.
William Shakespeare
O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet fondly loves!
William Shakespeare
You told a lie, an odious damned lie Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
William Shakespeare
Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.
William Shakespeare
Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.
William Shakespeare
Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
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If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee wish not one man more.
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He was not so much brain as earwax
William Shakespeare
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!
William Shakespeare
And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire, The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmasks her beauty to the moon.
William Shakespeare
Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.
William Shakespeare
For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg.
William Shakespeare
I go, I go, look how I go, swifter than an arrow from a bow
William Shakespeare
