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Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden.
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
Spring
Suffering
Weeds
Shallow
Weed
Rooted
Suffer
Garden
More quotes by William Shakespeare
One sin, I know, another doth provoke. Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke.
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Nothing can come of nothing.
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O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
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Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears what is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
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There live not three good men unhanged in England and one of them is fat and grows old.
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A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing.
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Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
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My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows, I am roughand lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
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That island of England breeds very valiant creatures their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
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Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again, and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity.
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You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes still am I King of those.
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And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.
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Tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons.
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How poor are they that have have not patients.
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The love of heaven makes one heavenly.
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When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony.
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Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
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Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
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Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious thing we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave.
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It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
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