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And mind, with my heart in't and now farewell Till half an hour hence.
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
Hence
Till
Hour
Hours
Half
Heart
Mind
Farewell
More quotes by William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.
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I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
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O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer!
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Farewell, fair cruelty.
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From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing.
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Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
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My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
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I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
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Nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will.
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For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.
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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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How well he's read, to reason against reading!
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The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
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Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.
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And he goes through life, his mouth open, and his mind closed.
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What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts.
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And do so, love, yet when they have devised What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend, Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathized In true plain words by thy true-telling friend And their gross painting might be better used Where cheeks need blood in thee it is abused.
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Miracles are ceased and therefore we must needs admit the means, how things are perfected.
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For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
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