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Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure.
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
Laughter
Present
Stills
Still
Come
Unsure
Mirth
Mistress
Hath
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.
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Farewell, fair cruelty.
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Justice always whirls in equal measure.
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Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!
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Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
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And what’s he then that says I play the villain?
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Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
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We have some salt of our youth in us.
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With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
William Shakespeare
The Hebrew will turn Christian he grows kind.
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O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, to drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
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My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax no levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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O gentle son, Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper, sprinkle cool patience.
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So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.
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And do so, love, yet when they have devised What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend, Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathized In true plain words by thy true-telling friend And their gross painting might be better used Where cheeks need blood in thee it is abused.
William Shakespeare
Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
William Shakespeare
Yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
William Shakespeare
