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O world, world! thus is the poor agent despised. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavor be so loved, and the performance so loathed?
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
World
Agents
Loathed
Performance
Traitors
Performances
Earnestly
Thus
Traitor
Loved
Despised
Poor
Agent
Work
Endeavor
Love
Ill
Requited
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds
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Thou art most rich, being poor Most choice, forsaken and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon.
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A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.
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Two starving men cannot be twice as hungry as one but two rascals can be ten times as vicious as one.
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She will die if you love her not, And she will die ere she might make her love known
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The extreme parts of time extremely forms all causes to the purpose of his speed.
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Officers, what offence have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, sir, they have committed false report moreover, they have spoken untruths secondarily, they are slanders sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady thirdly, they have verified unjust things and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.
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And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.
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Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
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Talkers are no good doers.
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It may do good pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride, for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.
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Every great drama has its foreshadow.
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
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What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion.
William Shakespeare
I was adored once too.
William Shakespeare
Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltiness of time.
William Shakespeare
For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye're so slight.
William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.
William Shakespeare
That's a valiant flea that dares eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
William Shakespeare
