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If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely touch me with noble anger, And let not women's weapons, water drops, Stain my man's cheeks.
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
Much
Bears
Drops
Men
Daughter
Daughters
Weapons
Cheeks
Fool
Bear
Tamely
Water
Noble
Stirs
Father
Anger
Lear
Women
Touch
Stain
Heart
Hearts
Stains
More quotes by William Shakespeare
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog.
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Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas
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This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
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If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
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To fear the worst oft cures the worst.
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His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.
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Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
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Pardon's the word to all.
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Love is familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love. -
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To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.
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I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing.
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Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
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A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us His dew falls everywhere.
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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Good morrow, fair ones pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
William Shakespeare
For now they kill me with a living death.
William Shakespeare
Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.
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He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
William Shakespeare