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I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew.
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
Clear
Looks
Taming
Love
Newly
Dew
Washed
Roses
Rose
Morning
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
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The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
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Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil
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I am not prone to weeping as our sex commonly are the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities but I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.
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What the great ones do, the less will prattle of
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To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
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Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.
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Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning One pain is less'ned by another's anguish Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning One desperate grief cures with another's languish.
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Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
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Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind
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What many men desire--that 'many' may be meant By the fool multitude that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, Which pries not to th' interior, but like the martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty.
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O, reason not the need!
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If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
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The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th' unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
William Shakespeare
The language I have learnt these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp, Or like a cunning instrument cased up Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
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Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues.
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Fair Katherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady's ear, And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
William Shakespeare
How long a time lies in one little word?
William Shakespeare
