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That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, And leave thee in a storm.
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
Storm
Begins
Gains
Pack
Thee
Packs
Rain
Serves
Leave
Seeks
Form
Follows
Gain
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, him not know t, and he's not robbed at all.
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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Take her away for she hath lived too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.
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Highly fed and lowly taught.
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Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
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Sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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How slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a stepdame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
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A heavier task could not have been impos'd, Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable.
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O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!
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If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am.
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Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light Moon take thy flight. Now die, die, die, die, die.
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As chaste as unsunned snow.
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What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights, Eightscore-eight hours, and lovers' absent hours More tedious than the dial eightscore times! O weary reckoning!
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When Caesar says, 'Do this', it is performed.
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This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-Paradise.
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I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.
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My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation that away Men are but gilded loan or painted clay... Mine honor is my life both grow in one Take honor from me, and my life is done.
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I have a bone to pick with Fate
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An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England.
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