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Contention, like a horse, Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.
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
High
Contention
Like
Loose
Feeding
Hath
Broke
Horse
Bears
Full
Madly
More quotes by William Shakespeare
My crown is in my heart, not on my head.
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Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile If not, why then this parting was well made.
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The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.
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Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.
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Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
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If by chance I talk a little wild, forgive me I had it from my father.
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Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
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Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
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The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
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Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked?
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Most friendship is faining, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly. This life is most jolly.
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The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.
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Let the galled jade wince our withers are unwrung.
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Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad.
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Suffer love a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.
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Do not for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect.
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We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.
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Hang those that talk of fear.
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Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
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Promising is the very air o' the time it opens the eyes of expectation.
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