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It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as you will desire and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire upon his death's-bed-Got deliver to a joyful resurrections!
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
Hundred
Joyful
Upon
Resurrection
Desire
Pounds
Death
Silver
Persons
Excitement
Person
Bed
Grandsire
Seven
Moneys
Gold
Deliver
More quotes by William Shakespeare
So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
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Pardon's the word to all.
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The people are the city.
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The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
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I scorn you, scurvy companion.
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Where hateful Death put on his ugliest mask.
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On your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep As is the difference betwixt day and night The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the east.
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I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not.
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He hath eaten me out of house and home.
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If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.
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There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
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These violent delights have violent ends.
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Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
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O, where is loyalty? If it be banished from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbor in the earth?
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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Angels and ministers of grace defend us.
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And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.
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Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
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Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come
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The villany you teach me I shall execute and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.
William Shakespeare
