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The day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of tomorrow.
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
Tomorrow
Shall
Trying
Fairs
Fair
Adventure
Soon
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
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O' What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!
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And nature must obey necessity.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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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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Beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time.
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Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?
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Press not a falling man too far 'tis virtue: His faults lie open to the laws let them, Not you, correct him.
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Let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
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Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
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O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dashed all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished!
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Good morrow, fair ones pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
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The play's the thing.
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Nor age so eat up my invention.
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Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
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Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.
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All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy.
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There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond And do a willful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity profound conceit As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
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Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
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Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
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