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O, let him pass. He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.
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
Upon
Rack
Hate
Racks
Would
Euthanasia
World
Hates
Stretch
Pass
Tough
Cordelia
Longer
Vex
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Nor age so eat up my invention.
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Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep.
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Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep.
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Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.
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I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
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Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
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If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage.
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These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.
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The let-alone lies not in your good will.
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Beware Of entrance to a quarrel but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy rich, not gaudy For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
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I thank you all and here dismiss you all, and to the love and favor of my country commit myself, my person, and the cause.
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Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
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Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
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To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess
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Like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.
William Shakespeare
Direct not him whose way himself will choose 'Tis breath not lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
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That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. (Enobarbus)
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I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.
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I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.
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The sweets we wish for, turn to loathed sours, Even in the moment that we call them ours.
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