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Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
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
Stakes
Straw
Honour
Straws
Integrity
Quarrel
Argument
Stir
Find
Rightly
Without
Quarrels
Great
Stake
Greatly
More quotes by William Shakespeare
To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?
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In the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.
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There is a law in each well-ordered nation To curb those raging appetites that are Most disobedient and refractory.
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And what’s he then that says I play the villain?
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I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched in so many giddy offences as He hath generally taxed their whole their whole sex withal.
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I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
William Shakespeare
Every why has a wherefore.
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O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
William Shakespeare
I love him for his sake And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtue's steely bones Looks bleak i' th' cold wind withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
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I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
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How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears soft stillness, and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony
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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase you vile standing-tuck!
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And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes Heaven drowsy with the harmony.
William Shakespeare
Examine well your blood.
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Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
William Shakespeare
Dream in light years, challenge miles, walk step by step
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Death-counterfeiting sleep.
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O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
William Shakespeare
