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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.
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
Passion
Thence
Upon
Crept
Water
Tempest
Music
Fury
Waters
Air
Follow
Sweet
More quotes by William Shakespeare
That but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'ld jump the life to come.
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Every great drama has its foreshadow.
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Fair ladies, masked, are roses in their bud Dismasked, the damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
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I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked.
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When the mind's free, The Body's delicate.
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Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.
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There's an old saying that applies to me: you can't lose a game if you don't play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)
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Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain.
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The best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed by those that feel their sharpness.
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I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.
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Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will!
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Like the lily That once was mistress of the field and flourished, I'll hang my head and perish.
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Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises and oft it hits where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
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O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.
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Lawyers Are: Perilous mouths.
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Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty Calls virtue hypocrite takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths.
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Thy words, I grant are bigger, for I wear not, my dagger in my mouth.
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This above all to thine own self be true.
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Poor and content, is rich and rich enough But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
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