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They love least that let men know their loves.
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
Loves
Friendship
Least
Men
Love
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I'll forbear And am fallen out with my more headier will To take the indisposed and sickly fit For the sound man.
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If love be blind, it best agrees with night
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She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
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The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.
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Though I am not naturally honest, I am sometimes so by chance.
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O sleep! O gentle sleep! Nature's soft nurse.
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The fear's as bad as falling.
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There's an old saying that applies to me: you can't lose a game if you don't play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)
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Now no way can I stray Save back to England, all the world's my way.
William Shakespeare
And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
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Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care.
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Cowards die many times before their deaths the valiant never taste of death but once.
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I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
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Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil
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When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious And Brutus is an honourable man.
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O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
William Shakespeare
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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A ministering angel shall my sister be.
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Say as you think and speak it from your souls.
William Shakespeare
Neither a borrower nor a lender be.
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