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Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
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
Uncle
Uncles
Hang
Mocking
Sassy
Naughty
More quotes by William Shakespeare
As a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor.
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God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
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Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.
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The wounds invisible that Love's keen arrows make.
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Romeo: Courage, man the hurt cannot be much. Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.
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Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.
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Sweet are the uses of adversity
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He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date . . .
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Greatness knows itself.
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A man can die but once.
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There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't
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Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night.
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If thou art rich, thou art poor for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.
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Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
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So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
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Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
William Shakespeare
The undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on.
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Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.
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Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.
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