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I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
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
Roman
Rome
Dog
Moon
Rather
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arm outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer.
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[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.
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That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
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He was not so much brain as earwax
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They that touch pitch will be defiled.
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The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.
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This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Senior Junior, giant dwarf...Cupid.
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O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
William Shakespeare
We must follow, not force Providence.
William Shakespeare
Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.
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So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.
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Having nothing, nothing can he lose.
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All gold and silver rather turn to dirt, An 'tis no better reckoned but of these Who worship dirty gods.
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The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.
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Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash ’tis something, nothing ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
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Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
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Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.
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All offences come from the heart.
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Art made tongue-tied by authority.
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This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, . . . This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land.
William Shakespeare
