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That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimms, and makes it indistinct As water is in water
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
Water
Makes
Thought
Even
Indistinct
Rack
Racks
Horse
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thou hast her, France let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.
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His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise.
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Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
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Be collected. No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.
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Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
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Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
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I would not wish any companion in the world but you.
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The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody: Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.
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I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well
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Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever
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He is not great who is not greatly good.
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Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.
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Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.
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I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.
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The instruments of darkness tell us truths.
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He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea singing aloud Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.
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Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
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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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The prize of all too precious you.
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He's a soldier and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
William Shakespeare
