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Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided 'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
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
Cannot
Twere
Lament
Childish
Avoided
Weakness
Courage
Fear
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
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Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
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I am not prone to weeping as our sex commonly are the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities but I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.
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If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage.
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All the world's a stage, and all the men and women mearly players.
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He is not great who is not greatly good.
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Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions.
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That strain again! It had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough no more: 'Tis not so sweet as it was before.
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Every why has a wherefore.
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O Ceremony, show me but thy worth? What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men?
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I have heard of your paintings too, well enough God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
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Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?
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Antonio: Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? Sebastian: By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you.
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There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings.
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O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle.
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Like the lily That once was mistress of the field and flourished, I'll hang my head and perish.
William Shakespeare
To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
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No visor does become black villainy so well as soft and tender flattery.
William Shakespeare
No, no 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
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In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow
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