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For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry And so I hear he doth account me too.
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
Speak
Truant
Part
Chivalry
May
Doth
Cowardice
Account
Accounts
Shame
Hear
More quotes by William Shakespeare
What? do I love her, that I desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes
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'Twas merry when You wagered on your angling, when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up.
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I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
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My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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To be merry best becomes you for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
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I doubt not then but innocence shall makeFalse accusation blush, and tyrannyTremble at patience.
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Her father lov'd me oft invited me Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass'd.
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What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.
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Speak me fair in death.
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Many dream not to find, neither deserve, and yet are steeped in favors.
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For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
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These cardinals trifle with me I abhor This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
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Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
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When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
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We will have rings and things and fine array
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. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.
William Shakespeare
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
William Shakespeare
