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Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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
Methinks
Twins
Faced
Glass
Glasses
Youth
Sweet
Brother
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Read o'er this And after, this, and then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
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What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?
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They do not love that do not show their love.
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I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why, so am I. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.
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Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
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Faith, I have been a truant in the law And never yet could frame my will to it, And therefore frame the law unto my will.
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We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.
William Shakespeare
Bid the dishonest man mend himself if he mend, he is no longer dishonest.
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The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die' But if that flow'r with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity: For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
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Good luck lies in odd numbers.
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I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
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He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.
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What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
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Mend when thou canst be better at thy leisure.
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Examine well your blood.
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He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.
William Shakespeare
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.
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How now, wit! Whither wander you?
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What's his offense? Groping for trout in a peculiar river.
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These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.
William Shakespeare