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All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.
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
Blood
Cheer
Love
Pale
Costs
Fresh
Fancy
Dear
Sick
Sighs
Cost
Sigh
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are 'clept All by the name of dogs: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed.
William Shakespeare
Beware the ides of March.
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The setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.
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I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.
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Doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born.
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The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you The malice towards you to forgive you.
William Shakespeare
To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.
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Poor and content, is rich and rich enough But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
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The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman and to be King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor.
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Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
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Before, I loved thee as a brother, John, But now, I do respect thee as my soul.
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I will be free, even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
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What: is the jay more precious than the lark because his feathers are more beautiful?
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Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
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Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life
William Shakespeare
Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?
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Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
William Shakespeare
The Hebrew will turn Christian he grows kind.
William Shakespeare
Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words since I first called my brother's father dad.
William Shakespeare
