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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
Trees
King
Kings
Stay
Dead
Tree
Wither
Thought
Country
Culinary
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
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One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
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Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
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Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.
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Fortune reigns in gifts of the world.
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This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Senior Junior, giant dwarf...Cupid.
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O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.
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When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me wouldst give me Water with berries in't and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.
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Good fortune then! To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
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So loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven, Visit her face' too roughly.
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If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
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For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
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There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings.
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Stars hide your fires let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see
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My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind So flew'd, so sanded their heads are hung with ears that sweep away the morning dew.
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The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.
William Shakespeare
Every why has a wherefore.
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To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation: To this point I stand,-- That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes only I'll be reveng'd.
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And in the morn and liquid dew of youth, Contagious blastments are are most imminent.
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Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.
William Shakespeare
