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Thrust your head into the public street, to gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces.
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
Faces
Thrust
Christian
Fools
Street
Atheism
Fool
Streets
Head
Varnish
Public
Gaze
More quotes by William Shakespeare
All's well that ends well still the fine's the crown. Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.
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Ten masts make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. Thy life's a miracle.
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You have her father's love, Demetrius Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him!
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I do not hate a proud man, as I do hate the engendering of toads.
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Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.
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If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well. It were done quickly.
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O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety.
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Thou hast her, France let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.
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Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?
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Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.
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Give me my sin again.
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If the masses can love without knowing why, they also hate without much foundation.
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Our very eyes Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind.
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Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
William Shakespeare
Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
William Shakespeare
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
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Leave us to our free election.
William Shakespeare
But men are men the best sometimes forget.
William Shakespeare
