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But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
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
Life
Virgins
Theseus
Rose
Distill
Flower
Midsummer
Single
Thrice
Grows
Withering
Dies
Blessedness
Happy
Thorn
Lives
Virgin
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I ha' lost my reputation, I ha' lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial!
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Give me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all unkindness.
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We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.
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Love that we cannot have is the one that lasts the longest,hurts the deepest,but feels the strongest
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And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.
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Constant you are, But yet a woman and for secrecy, No lady closer for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know.
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Our jovial star reigned at his birth.
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And nothing is, but what is not.
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A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.
William Shakespeare
Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
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Be like you thought our love would last too long, if it were chain'd together
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For this relief, much thanks
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Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
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She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them
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Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful
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Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.
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There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.
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Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes.
William Shakespeare
For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
William Shakespeare
Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business, Hath raised me from my bed nor doth the general care Take hold on me for my particular grief Is of so floodgate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.
William Shakespeare
