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I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.
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
Forbear
Hurling
Hardly
Things
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But, in the less foul profanation.
William Shakespeare
Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
William Shakespeare
To die: - to sleep: No more and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.
William Shakespeare
This thought is as a death.
William Shakespeare
This feather stirs she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
William Shakespeare
Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
William Shakespeare
You have her father's love, Demetrius Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him!
William Shakespeare
My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
William Shakespeare
When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.
William Shakespeare
Suffer love a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.
William Shakespeare
So every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity.
William Shakespeare
One sin, I know, another doth provoke. Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke.
William Shakespeare
What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.
William Shakespeare
He that keeps not crust nor crum Weary of all, shall want some.
William Shakespeare
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.
William Shakespeare
Thanks to men Of noble minds, is honorable meed.
William Shakespeare
For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
William Shakespeare
Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.
William Shakespeare
Shine out fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass.
William Shakespeare
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
William Shakespeare
