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Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night.
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
Even
Call
Cabin
Make
Within
Cabins
Love
Upon
Gate
Write
Loyal
House
Gates
Night
Loud
Soul
Sing
Writing
Dead
Willow
More quotes by William Shakespeare
. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.
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Ay, is it not a language I speak?
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Time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arm outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer.
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If she be not honest, chaste, and true, there's no man happy.
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Then imitate the action of the tiger stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
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Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather have eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
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Come, Lady, die to live.
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Pastime passing excellent, if it he husbanded with modesty.
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This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedler and retails his wares.
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Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.
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Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.
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Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.
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The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.
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Some are born great, others achieve greatness.
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Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.
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So our virtues lie in the interpretation of the time
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Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
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[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.
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My charity is outrage, life my shame And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!
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