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Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offense?
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
Whereto
Visage
Confront
Serves
Offense
Mercy
More quotes by William Shakespeare
She is a woman, therefore to be won.
William Shakespeare
She dreams of him that has forgot her love You dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!
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A good leg will fall a straight back will stoop a black beard will turn white a curl'd pate will grow bald a fair face will wither a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, — for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly.
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How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
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Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, And where we are our learning likewise is.
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Pardon's the word to all.
William Shakespeare
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
William Shakespeare
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, to love that well which thou must leave ere long
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Forget, forgive conclude, and be agreed.
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He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.
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O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.
William Shakespeare
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.
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Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
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When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner
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What is thy sentence then but speechless death.
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Who can control his fate?
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In thy foul throat thou liest.
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It is lost at dice, what ancient honor won.
William Shakespeare
Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful Mine ears, that heard her flattery nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.
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Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
William Shakespeare
