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My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
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
Wall
Town
Feet
Towns
Yonder
Half
Clouds
Tops
Must
Kissing
Wanton
Fronts
Prophecy
Front
Towers
Whose
Walls
Journey
Kiss
More quotes by William Shakespeare
What Time hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.
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There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
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Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!
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JAQUES: Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO: Yes, just. JAQUES: I do not like her name. ORLANDO: There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.
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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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Such thanks as fits a king's remembrance.
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Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.
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The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
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My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires. Yet filed with my abilities.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.
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But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool.
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Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
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Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.
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So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.
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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
William Shakespeare
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
William Shakespeare
Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure.
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And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd
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Thou art sad get thee a wife, get thee a wife!
William Shakespeare
