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What: is the jay more precious than the lark because his feathers are more beautiful?
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
Lark
Taming
Larks
Feathers
Precious
Creatures
Animal
Beautiful
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.
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... And death unloads thee.
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Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!
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But as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows.
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Truth hath a quiet breast.
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If thou art rich, thou art poor for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.
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Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.
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I am thy father's spirit Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away.
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Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
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I am not mad I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
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For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
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Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
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Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
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If there were reason for these miseries, then into limits could I bind my woes. If the winds rages, doth not the sea wax mad, threat'ning the welkin with its big-swoll'n face? And wilt though have a reason for this coil? I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth blow. She is the weeping welkin, I the earth.
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Lay aside life-harming heaviness, And entertain a cheerful disposition.
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Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!
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O braggart vile and damned furious wight!
William Shakespeare
Let us our lives, our souls, Our debts, our careful wives, Our children, and our sins, lay on the King!
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Good reasons must of force give place to better.
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Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
William Shakespeare
