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Bassanio: Do all men kill all the things they do not love? Shylock: Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bassanio: Every offence is not a hate at first.
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
Love
Hate
Firsts
First
Thing
Shylock
Every
Offence
Things
Venice
Would
Hates
Men
Kill
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But, in the less foul profanation.
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Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
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Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
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Promising is the very air o' the time it opens the eyes of expectation.
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Now the melancholy of God protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing.
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This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
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For he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royally.
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The king's name is a tower of strength.
William Shakespeare
I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood.
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Poise the cause in justice's equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight
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Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
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Cowards die many times before their deaths The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
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Patch grief with proverbs.
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Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
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As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods they kill us for their sport.
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Come give us a taste of your quality.
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Parting is such sweet sorrow
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This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, Malevolent to you In all aspects, Which makes him prune himself and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.
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