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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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
Feigning
Touchstones
Truest
Poetry
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
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Soft pity enters an iron gate.
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To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, gives in your weakness strength unto your foe.
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When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows
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A table-full of welcome!
William Shakespeare
The sweets we wish for, turn to loathed sours, Even in the moment that we call them ours.
William Shakespeare
She's good, being gone.
William Shakespeare
I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority: To do a great right, do a little wrong.
William Shakespeare
And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
William Shakespeare
A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.
William Shakespeare
The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep and leapt them over.
William Shakespeare
A sympathy in choice.
William Shakespeare
Yet do I fear thy nature It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.
William Shakespeare
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.
William Shakespeare
These words are razors to my wounded heart.
William Shakespeare
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
William Shakespeare
Patch up thine old body for heaven.
William Shakespeare
How low am I, thou painted maypole?
William Shakespeare
If there is a good will, there is great way.
William Shakespeare
Through tattered clothes great vices do appear Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
William Shakespeare
