Quote

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?

William Shakespeare

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

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
Witch
Wild
Earth
Look
Macbeth
Looks
Attire
Like
Wither
Witches
Inhabitants

More quotes by William Shakespeare

Image
The worm is not to be trusted.
William Shakespeare
Image
To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune but to write and read comes by nature.
William Shakespeare
Image
All things are ready, if our mind be so.
William Shakespeare
Image
I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
William Shakespeare
Image
You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.
William Shakespeare
Image
Discuss unto me: art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular?
William Shakespeare
Image
Time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will.
William Shakespeare
Image
Mine honor is my life, both grow in one. Take honor from me, and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try In that I live, and for that I will die.
William Shakespeare
Image
Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough.
William Shakespeare
Image
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.
William Shakespeare
Image
O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.
William Shakespeare
Image
Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys renown, and grace is dead The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
William Shakespeare
Image
These violent delights have violent ends And in their triump die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume
William Shakespeare
Image
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.
William Shakespeare
Image
There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
William Shakespeare
Image
Well could he ride, and often men would say, That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes! And controversy hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.
William Shakespeare
Image
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!
William Shakespeare
Image
There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.
William Shakespeare
Image
Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
William Shakespeare
Image
Pray you now, forget and forgive.
William Shakespeare