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Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.
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
Rather
Red
Making
Guilt
Multitudinous
Hands
Sea
Neptune
Play
Clean
Hyperbole
Great
Ocean
Constancy
Green
Pluck
Blood
Seas
Hand
Wash
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
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All's well that ends well still the fine's the crown. Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
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Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
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Full fathom five thy father lies Of his bones are coral made Those are pearls that were his eyes Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell.
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Finish, good lady the bright day is done, And we are for the Dark.
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I would fain die a dry death.
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Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?
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The best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed by those that feel their sharpness.
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If music be the food of love, play on.
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No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
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How now, wit! Whither wander you?
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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.
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The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
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God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
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Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
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My love is thaw'd Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was
William Shakespeare
Good things should be praised.
William Shakespeare
Frame your mind to mirth and merriment which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
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Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, Not to outsport discretion.
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France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot.
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