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O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
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
Tell
Since
Hath
Hands
Written
Thou
Time
Face
Careful
Hours
Grief
Lasts
Saws
Last
Strange
Faces
Changed
Deformed
Voice
Hand
Dost
More quotes by William Shakespeare
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a young woman in love always looks like patience on a monument smiling at grief
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My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.
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All pride is willing pride.
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We will have rings and things and fine array
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A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as dot an inland brook Into the main of waters.
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Good with out evil is like light with out darkness which in turn is like righteousness whith out hope.
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All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
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O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having. . . .
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Tis the mind that makes the body rich.
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We will meet and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously.
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A good leg will fall a straight back will stoop a black beard will turn white a curl'd pate will grow bald a fair face will wither a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, — for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly.
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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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Conscience doth make cowards of us all.
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But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
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O that a lady, of one man refused, Should of another therefore be abused!
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I do begin to have bloody thoughts.
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It is lost at dice, what ancient honor won.
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Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light
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The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.
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