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Friendship's full of dregs.
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
Dregs
Friendship
Full
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Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.
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Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.
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I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not.
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O England! Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a might heart.
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I could be well content To entertain the lag-end of my life With quiet hours.
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To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
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Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil With them forgive yourself.
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Let's take the instant by the forward top For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them.
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Sycorax has grown into a hoop
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O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle.
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A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.
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Words pay no debts, give her deeds.
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This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators, save only he,Did that they did in envy of CaesarHe only, in a general honest thoughtAnd common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mixd in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, This was a man!
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This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
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I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
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Thou ominous and fearful owl of death.
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When he is best, he is a little worse than a man and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.
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Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.
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Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
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