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When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious And Brutus is an honourable man.
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
Men
Cried
Ambitious
Sterner
Hath
Brutus
Ambition
Honourable
Says
Wept
Poor
Julius
Stuff
Caesar
Made
Countrymen
More quotes by William Shakespeare
But I remember now I am in this earthly world, where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly.
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I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
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From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world.
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What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?
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Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
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Reflection is the business of man a sense of his state is his first duty: but who remembereth himself in joy? Is it not in mercy then that sorrow is allotted unto us?
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Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.
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Having my freedom, boast of nothing else.
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I was born free as Caesar so were you
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There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.
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A kind Of excellent dumb discourse.
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And in the morn and liquid dew of youth, Contagious blastments are are most imminent.
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I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may.
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Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse.
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For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
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Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, But then woos best when most his choice is froward.
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There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail.
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So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies.
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She is your treasure, she must have a husband I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day, And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.
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I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
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