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I cannot do it without comp[u]ters.
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
Without
Comp
Mathematical
Cannot
More quotes by William Shakespeare
My charity is outrage, life my shame And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!
William Shakespeare
Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
William Shakespeare
Opinion crowns with an imperial voice.
William Shakespeare
Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues.
William Shakespeare
Like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.
William Shakespeare
Bid the dishonest man mend himself if he mend, he is no longer dishonest.
William Shakespeare
Their understanding Begins to swell and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores That now lie foul and muddy.
William Shakespeare
The devil shall have his bargain for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.
William Shakespeare
The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
William Shakespeare
Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.
William Shakespeare
Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys renown, and grace is dead The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
William Shakespeare
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.
William Shakespeare
Old Time the clock-setter.
William Shakespeare
Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
William Shakespeare
Let no such man be trusted.
William Shakespeare
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
William Shakespeare
Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace.
William Shakespeare
O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world, And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation.
William Shakespeare
O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
William Shakespeare
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form
William Shakespeare
