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'Tis thought the king is dead we will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all wither'd.
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
Country
Culinary
Trees
King
Kings
Stay
Dead
Tree
Thought
Wither
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He that is truly dedicated to war hath no self-love
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My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.
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Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!
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Here's flowers for you Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.
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Fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.
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Confess yourself to heaven, Repent what's past, avoid what is to come, And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker.
William Shakespeare
If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
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There is a history in all men's lives.
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Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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While thou livest keep a good tongue in thy head.
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Children wish fathers looked but with their eyes fathers that children with their judgment looked and either may be wrong.
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Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid Fly away, fly away, breath I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
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Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
William Shakespeare
The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
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Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment.
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He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't.
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For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.
William Shakespeare
