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On a day - alack the day! - Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air
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
Whose
Wanton
Months
Blossom
Playing
Month
May
Passings
Ever
Fairs
Love
Passing
Life
Fair
Air
Spied
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Cowards die many times before their deaths The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
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Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
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That is my home of love: if I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged.
William Shakespeare
To you your father should be as a god One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it.
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Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
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A good heart is the sun and the moon or, rather, the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes.
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Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
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Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words
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How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms!
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My master hath been an honorable gentleman tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.
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I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.
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Thou whoreson, senseless villain!
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For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
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A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind.
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But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike.
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The old folk, time's doting chronicles.
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Say she rail why, I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word Then I'll commend her volubility, and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.
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A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man.
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Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.
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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
William Shakespeare
