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You have but mistook me all the while... I live by bread like you, taste grief, feel want, need friends. Conditioned thus how can you call me king?
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
Needs
Kings
Like
Taste
Mistook
Call
Friends
Conditioned
Live
Bread
Need
King
Feel
Thus
Feels
Grief
More quotes by William Shakespeare
And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
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So curses all Eve's daughters of what complexion soever.
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There is a devilish mercy in the judge, if you'll implore it, that will free your life, but fetter you till death.
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Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
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Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.
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What, can the devil speak true?
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In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
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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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Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
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For Brutus is an honourable man So are they all, all honourable men.
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Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.
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I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.
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Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
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O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
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Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, And say there is no sin but to be rich And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary
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Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
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Silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
William Shakespeare
But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.
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My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!
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Mend when thou canst be better at thy leisure.
William Shakespeare
