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But most it is presumption in us when the help of heaven we count the act of men.
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
Help
Helping
Men
Presumption
Count
Angel
Heaven
More quotes by William Shakespeare
To be merry best becomes you for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
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He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
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Poor and content, is rich and rich enough But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
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The leopard does not change his spots.
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Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.
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I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.
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Ay, but hearken, sir though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat.
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Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
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Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct.
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Desire of having is the sin of covetousness.
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Is this government of Britain's Isle, and this the royalty of Albion's King?
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Against ill chances men are ever merry, But heaviness foreruns the good event.
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There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable.
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All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy.
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If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
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The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars.
William Shakespeare
This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
William Shakespeare
But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them. Viola: Thy reason, man? Feste: Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.
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Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
William Shakespeare
