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Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared.
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
Echoes
Double
Numbers
Rumour
Voice
Rumours
Like
Echo
Rumor
Feared
Doth
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
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Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed.
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Let's take the instant by the forward top For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them.
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But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool.
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I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
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The love of heaven makes one heavenly.
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Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?
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But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
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Truly the souls of men are full of dread: Ye cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of fear.
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By my troth, I care not a man can die but once we owe God a death and let it go which way it will he that dies this year is quit for the next
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For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
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He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache
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O Judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason !
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If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
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To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
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Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
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Forget, forgive conclude, and be agreed.
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Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
William Shakespeare
What: is the jay more precious than the lark because his feathers are more beautiful?
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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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