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But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike.
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
Dust
Dignity
Whose
Differs
Clay
Alike
More quotes by William Shakespeare
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?
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where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.
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Hardness ever of hardness is mother.
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Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
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I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
William Shakespeare
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.
William Shakespeare
Old Time the clock-setter.
William Shakespeare
If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.
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Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
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A little more than kin, and less than kind.
William Shakespeare
... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.
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All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are.
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We that are true lovers run into strange capers.
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A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man.
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Oh, I am fortune's fool!
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The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst, 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
William Shakespeare
O world, world! thus is the poor agent despised. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavor be so loved, and the performance so loathed?
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So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
William Shakespeare
Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.
William Shakespeare
