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O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
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
Dignity
Heaven
Offence
Smells
Rank
Smell
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
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I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight.
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The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
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Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.
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Men must learn now with pity to dispense For policy sits above conscience.
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I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here, Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear.
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Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's.
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There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous men.
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The prize of all too precious you.
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And mind, with my heart in't and now farewell Till half an hour hence.
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What soilders whey-face? The English for so please you. Take thy face hence.
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As love is full of unbefitting strains, All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye, Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance
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Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
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Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
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A young man married is a man that's marred.
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Men should be what they seem Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.
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There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
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A rotten case abides no handling.
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So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly it strikes where it doth love.
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