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It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection.
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
Stills
Still
Excellency
Witness
Perfection
Strange
Face
Faces
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A man cannot make him laugh - but that's no marvel he drinks no wine.
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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Waste not thy time in windy argument but let the matter drop.
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Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity.
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As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer.
William Shakespeare
Avaunt, you cullions!
William Shakespeare
... And death unloads thee.
William Shakespeare
That is my home of love: if I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged.
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I have a bone to pick with Fate
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Take you me for a sponge?
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Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.
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I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight.
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So all my best is dressing old words new.
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What a fool honesty is.
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Bosom upon my counsel You'll find it wholesome.
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That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.
William Shakespeare
But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise
William Shakespeare
Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.
William Shakespeare
