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But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
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
Something
Speech
Life
Whose
Ills
Return
Traveller
Rather
Puzzles
Death
Returns
Makes
Dread
Others
Bear
Country
Bears
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
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I heard a bustling rumor like a fray, And the wind blows it from the Capitol.
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Who is it can read a woman?
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Love will not be spurred to what it loathes
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Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
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The quality of mercy is not strained
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...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! *It’s sad. Love looks like a nice thing, but it’s actually very rough when you experience it.*
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Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.
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But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
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The mightier man, the mightier is the thing That makes him honored or begets him hate For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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Why, thou deboshed fish thou...Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?
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He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
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Doubt thou the stars are fire Doubt that the sun doth move Doubt truth to be a liar But never doubt I love.
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Where hateful Death put on his ugliest mask.
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Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
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O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having. . . .
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...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.
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Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.
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He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.
William Shakespeare
