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Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolled In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own!

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
Book
Forbid
Children
Deserved
Good
Unnatural
Like
Rome
Gods
Jove
Towards
Enrolled
Gratitude
Renowned
Whose
Dams

More quotes by William Shakespeare

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I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.
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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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This thought is as a death.
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We will have rings and things and fine array
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His worst fault is, he's given to prayer he is something peevish that way.
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Britain is A world by itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.
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While he was drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed.
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O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
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So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.
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Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
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Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.
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Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful
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Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it.
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The love of wicked men converts to fear That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
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This night I hold an old accustomed feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
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For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
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Every offense is not a hate at first.
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Get thee to a nunnery.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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The man that hath no music in himself
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