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Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
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
Come
Strew
Pansies
Violets
Violet
Lap
Spring
Flower
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Nimble thought can jump both sea and land.
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Give me my sin again.
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Women may fall when there's no strength in men.
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The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.
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And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
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I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.
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Ambition's debt is paid.
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Here I and sorrows sit Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
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Too much to know is to know naught but fame.
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O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.
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Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.
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An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.
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Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
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We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.
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An overflow of good converts to bad.
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Kindness nobler ever than revenge.
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Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
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Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.
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Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
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Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash ’tis something, nothing ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
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