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To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation: To this point I stand,-- That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes only I'll be reveng'd.
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
Comes
Revenge
Profoundest
Give
Dare
Vows
Come
Conscience
Negligence
Giving
Devil
Damnation
World
Grace
Vow
Stand
Pits
Hell
Allegiance
Point
Worlds
Blackest
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
William Shakespeare
Never play with the feelings of others, because you may win the game but the risk is that you will surely lose the person for life time
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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
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Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow
William Shakespeare
Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys renown, and grace is dead The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
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They are hare-brain'd slaves.
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Unless the old adage must be verified, That beggars mounted, run their horse to death.
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Time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop.
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There's daggers in men's smiles.
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'Tis the soldier's life to have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
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This is the very ecstasy of love.
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Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues.
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Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
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Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not feel.
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Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream
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O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
William Shakespeare
Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
William Shakespeare
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose. For whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed.
William Shakespeare
