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Glendower: I can call the spirits from the vasty deep. Hotspur: Why, so can I, or so can any man But will they come, when you do call for them?

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
Come
Men
Hotspur
Apparitions
Spirits
Deep
Call
Spirit

More quotes by William Shakespeare

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To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much.
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Discharge my followers let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbrooke's fair day.
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O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
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I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face.
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Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age?
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Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires.
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All that glisters is not gold Often have you heard that told.
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Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lender's books, and defy the foul fiend.
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Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?
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He who has injured thee was either stronger or weaker than thee. If weaker, spare him if stronger, spare thyself.
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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Set we forward let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud's town march, And in the temple of the great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
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This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.
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What's gone, and what's past help, Should be past grief.
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Better be with the dead, Whom we to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.
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What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
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This is the short and the long of it.
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Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
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The king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temp'rance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting in many ways.
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The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
William Shakespeare