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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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
Courage
Rous
Self
Retorts
Thing
Accent
Doth
Accents
Rage
Fortune
Keys
Sympathise
More quotes by William Shakespeare
And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
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Men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty To load a falling man.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
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I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.
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And Caesar shall go forth.
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Instinct is a great matter. I was now a coward on instinct.
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More matter with less art.
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I am not in the giving vein today.
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O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
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O, Thou hast damnable iteration and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint.
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Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
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Death lies on her like an untimely frost.
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whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life
William Shakespeare
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
William Shakespeare
Unless the old adage must be verified, That beggars mounted, run their horse to death.
William Shakespeare
I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may.
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There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.
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Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves.
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