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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
Even
Difference
Penalties
Churlish
Wind
Bites
Icy
Cold
Adam
Fang
Differences
Till
Shrink
Upon
Seasons
Fangs
Body
Winter
Penalty
Feel
Blow
Shrinks
Feels
Smile
Blows
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.
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To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?
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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
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They whose guilt within their bosom lies, imagine every eye beholds their blame.
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Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.
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I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
William Shakespeare
Ambition's debt is paid.
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Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none. This above all: to thine own self be true. No legacy is so rich as honesty. Brevity is the soul of wit
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O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou has no name to be known by, let us call thee devil....O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!
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Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
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These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.
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Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
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A table-full of welcome!
William Shakespeare
Come, Lady, die to live.
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They do not love that do not show their love.
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The insolence of office.
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Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
William Shakespeare
Being your slave what should I do but tend, Upon the hours, and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend Nor services to do till you require.
William Shakespeare
I will go wash And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no.
William Shakespeare
GLOUCESTER: I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night: I thank my God for my humility.
William Shakespeare
