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Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile.
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
Body
Winter
Penalty
Feel
Blow
Shrinks
Feels
Smile
Blows
Even
Difference
Penalties
Churlish
Wind
Bites
Icy
Cold
Adam
Fang
Differences
Till
Shrink
Upon
Seasons
Fangs
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.
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Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
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But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
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Art made tongue-tied by authority.
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Delivers in such apt and gracious words that aged ears play truant at his tales And younger hearings are quite ravished So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
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wert thou as far As that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.
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I hope to see London once ere I die.
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Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
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She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed She is a woman, therefore to be won.
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A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?
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In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.
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Enough no more Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
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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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A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain,... makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes.
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The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love.
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So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.
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If it be honor in your wars to seem The same you are not,--which, for your best ends, You adopt your policy--how is it less or worse, That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war: since that to both It stands in like request?
William Shakespeare
O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? And shall I couple Hell?
William Shakespeare
What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion.
William Shakespeare
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief
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