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Misery makes sport to mock itself.
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
Mock
Sport
Misery
Sports
Makes
More quotes by William Shakespeare
That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.
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May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves.
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Drink down all unkindness.
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Base is the slave that pays.
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All hoods make not monks.
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You are not wood, you are not stones, but men And being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
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Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.
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Every great drama has its foreshadow.
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Travelers must be content.
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I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.
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Don't judge a man's conscience by looking at his face cause he may have a bad heart.
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We are ready to try our fortunes to the last man.
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Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
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Be collected. No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.
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The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits.
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When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.
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You have but mistook me all the while... I live by bread like you, taste grief, feel want, need friends. Conditioned thus how can you call me king?
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I was adored once too.
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He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
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