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Thou art a soul in bliss but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
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
Mines
Molten
Like
Mine
Affliction
Lead
Wheel
Tears
Wheels
Fire
Bliss
Upon
Bound
Bounds
Art
Thou
Soul
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Base is the slave that pays.
William Shakespeare
For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.
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I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks.
William Shakespeare
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief
William Shakespeare
He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
William Shakespeare
Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables.
William Shakespeare
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, than women's are.
William Shakespeare
In delay there lies no plenty.
William Shakespeare
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
William Shakespeare
An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
William Shakespeare
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you.
William Shakespeare
Life's uncertain voyage.
William Shakespeare
Let the sap of reason quench the fire of passion.
William Shakespeare
Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
William Shakespeare
At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.
William Shakespeare
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
William Shakespeare
And yet,to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
William Shakespeare
The past is prologue.
William Shakespeare
you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems best.
William Shakespeare
Who alone suffers suffers most i' th' mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
William Shakespeare
