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In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
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
Mother
Thee
England
Fame
Youth
Name
Names
Dies
Household
Death
Revenge
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
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Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
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All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are.
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False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
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Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school.
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O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest - A dammed saint, an honourable villain!
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Courage mounteth with occasion.
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When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence so sweet is zealous contemplation.
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I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
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Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
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I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.
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Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.
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The let-alone lies not in your good will.
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This act is an ancient tale new told And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!
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I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
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But I remember now I am in this earthly world, where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly.
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