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No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.
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
Doubt
Solemnity
Came
Rite
Inspirational
Intent
May
Observe
Hearing
Rose
Early
Grace
More quotes by William Shakespeare
These are the forgeries of jealousy And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.
William Shakespeare
Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
William Shakespeare
How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?
William Shakespeare
O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
William Shakespeare
O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)
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Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
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There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achieved by others' death.
William Shakespeare
Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
William Shakespeare
Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
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You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!
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How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
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Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow.
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Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
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A dream itself is but a shadow.
William Shakespeare
O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
William Shakespeare
Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
William Shakespeare
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after.
William Shakespeare
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
William Shakespeare
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
William Shakespeare
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
William Shakespeare
