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Mine honour is my life both grow in one Take honour from me, and my life is done.
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
Done
Mines
Life
Mine
Identity
Grow
Respect
Hypocrisy
Grows
Karma
Character
Honour
Take
Integrity
More quotes by William Shakespeare
How strange or odd some'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on.
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Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.
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This world to me is like a lasting storm,Whirring me from my friends.
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T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
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Religious canons, civil laws, are cruel then what should war be?
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Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken fare you well now... (Much Ado About Nothing)
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Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.
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There's a time for all things.
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Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
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No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.
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She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared
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Here's flowers for you Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.
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This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, . . . This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land.
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Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.
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Appetite, a universal wolf.
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Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
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O, Thou hast damnable iteration and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
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A lover goes toward his beloved as enthusiastically as a schoolboy leaving his books, but when he leaves his girlfriend, he feels as miserable as the schoolboy on his way to school. (Act 2, scene 2)
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