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Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
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
Mortals
Rounds
Keeps
Crown
King
Crowns
Kings
Hollow
Court
Rulers
Within
Mortal
Death
Temples
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, Not to outsport discretion.
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Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
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And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.
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Be not afeard the isle is full of noises.
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Give obedience where 'tis truly owed.
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Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court?
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What's done is done. The joy is in the doing.
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Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
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Speak, what trade art thou? Why, sir, a carpenter. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What does thou with thy best apparel on?
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I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
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O constancy, be strong upon my side, Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue! I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
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One woman is fair, yet I am well another is wise, yet I am well another virtuous, yet I am well but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.
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Truth is truth to the end of reckoning.
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Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
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Thou lump of foul deformity!
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These cardinals trifle with me I abhor This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
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And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.
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Villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, that sing my heart Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas.
William Shakespeare
For Brutus is an honourable man So are they all, all honourable men.
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That strain again! It had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough no more: 'Tis not so sweet as it was before.
William Shakespeare
