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The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.
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
Thieves
Pale
Sun
Moon
Fire
Arrant
Snatches
Thief
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O, reason not the need!
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I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, The very tyranny and rage of his.
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Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
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My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.
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Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.
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For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.
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Let the galled jade wince our withers are unwrung.
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But yet, I say, if imputation and strong circumstances, which lead directly to the door of truth, will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
William Shakespeare
Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
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We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
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Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.
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Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?
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I came, saw, and overcame.
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He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.
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Refrain to-night And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence, the next more easy For use almost can change the stamp of nature, And either master the devil or throw him out With wondrous potency.
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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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And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.
William Shakespeare
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?
William Shakespeare
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
William Shakespeare
Our enemies are our outward consciences.
William Shakespeare
