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What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!
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
Days
Seen
Dark
Bareness
Felt
Freezing
December
Absence
Winter
Everywhere
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I will be master of what is mine own: She is my goods, my chattels she is my house, My household stuff, my field, my barn, My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing.
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But whate'er I am, nor I nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased 'til he be eased With being nothing.
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So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend, or be rid on't.
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Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
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Mine honour is my life both grow in one Take honour from me, and my life is done.
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date . . .
William Shakespeare
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, and clap thyself my love then didst thou utter, I am your's for ever!
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What is past is prologue.
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In such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears.
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Direct not him whose way himself will choose 'Tis breath not lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
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Well-apparel'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads.
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I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew.
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Cold indeed, and labor lost: Then farewell heat, and welcome frost!
William Shakespeare
Light and lust are deadly enemies.
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Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
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Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
William Shakespeare
Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
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Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears: But yet It is our trick nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out. — Adieu, my lord! I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it.
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All is well ended if this suit be won. That you express content which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day.
William Shakespeare
The why is plain as way to parish church: He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob if not, The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
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