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There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
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
Souls
Loathsome
Thou
Bribery
Worse
Bribe
Gold
Compounds
Poor
Poison
Soul
Sell
Men
Sells
World
Murder
Mayst
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
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He is the most wretched of men who has never felt adversity.
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O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world.
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Gold were as good as twenty orators.
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Mend when thou canst be better at thy leisure.
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But it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in the most humorous sadness.
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Some are born great, others achieve greatness.
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Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.
William Shakespeare
Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
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Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.
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Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
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O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!
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If all the year were playing holidays To sport would be as tedious as to work.
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O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!
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My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.
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Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
William Shakespeare
What a deformed thief this fashion is.
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That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
William Shakespeare
Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies
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Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.
William Shakespeare