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O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
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
Weed
Hath
Fast
Brother
Growth
Outgrown
Lord
Weeds
Prince
Idle
More quotes by William Shakespeare
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
William Shakespeare
Confess yourself to heaven, Repent what's past, avoid what is to come, And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker.
William Shakespeare
The object of Art is to give life a shape.
William Shakespeare
Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering.
William Shakespeare
Is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
William Shakespeare
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!
William Shakespeare
Thus we play the fool with the time and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.
William Shakespeare
Let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
William Shakespeare
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.
William Shakespeare
This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedler and retails his wares.
William Shakespeare
Thou know'st 'tis common all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
William Shakespeare
God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
William Shakespeare
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light
William Shakespeare
I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
William Shakespeare
At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth But like of each thing that in season grows.
William Shakespeare
The breach of custom Is breach of all.
William Shakespeare
How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over In states unborn and accents yet unknown!
William Shakespeare
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
William Shakespeare
I'll make death love me for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe.
William Shakespeare
You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you And here remain with your uncertainty!
William Shakespeare
