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Is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
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
Weight
Happy
Antony
Bear
Horse
Bears
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O no, thy love though much, is not so great, It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake. For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near.
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Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!
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Ten masts make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. Thy life's a miracle.
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Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir.
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She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.
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For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
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Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.
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We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing.
William Shakespeare
As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.
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A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity but you gods will give us Some faults to make us men.
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My cousin's a fool, and thou art another.
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He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion.
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Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love. -
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The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself
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As chaste as unsunned snow.
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What soilders whey-face? The English for so please you. Take thy face hence.
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In persons grafted in a serious trust, Negligence is a crime.
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Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh And sees fast-by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
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Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
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When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
William Shakespeare