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My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!
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
Father
Mother
Assist
Parenthood
Wit
Tongue
Parent
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
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If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not
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Should the poor be flattered? No let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, and crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning.
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
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My meaning in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me that he is sufficient.
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Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
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How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!
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Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
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Our wills and fates do so contrary run.
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I heard a bustling rumor like a fray, And the wind blows it from the Capitol.
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The devil is a gentleman.
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If your mind dislike anything obey it
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Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth
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Then to Silvia let us sing that Silvia is excelling. She excels each mortal thing upon the dull earth dwelling.
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Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
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He is well paid that is well satisfied.
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Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights Four nights will quickly dream away the time And then the moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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Titus Andronicus, my lord the Emperor Sends thee this word, that, if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand And send it to the King: he for the same Will send thee hither both thy sons alive, And that shall be the ransom for their fault.
William Shakespeare
