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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
They are fairies he that speaks to them shall die. I'll wink and couch no man their works must eye.
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You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!
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When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face?
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Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
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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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What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? Beatrice: Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?
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In limited professions there's boundless theft.
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Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.
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Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, and clap thyself my love then didst thou utter, I am your's for ever!
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When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner
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So many hours must I take my rest So many hours must I contemplate.
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Extreme fear can neither fight nor fly.
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Patch grief with proverbs.
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What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?
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Silence is the perfect herald of joy.
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How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
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Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety.
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Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But, in the less foul profanation.
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Beauty itself doth of itself persuade the eyes of men without an orator.
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Fairies use flowers for their charactery.
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