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If money go before, all ways do lie open.
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
Money
Way
Ways
Open
Lying
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Every why hath a wherefore.
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Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
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Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
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Omittance is no quittance.
William Shakespeare
A very honest woman but something given to lie
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To be furious, is to be frighted out of fear.
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Now the melancholy of God protect thee, and the tailor make thy doublet of changable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be everything, and their intent everywhere, for that's it, that always makes a good voyage of nothing.
William Shakespeare
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
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O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!
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The gloomy shade of death.
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Wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.
William Shakespeare
Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.
William Shakespeare
No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.
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Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.
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Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
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Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
William Shakespeare
The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
William Shakespeare
O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
William Shakespeare
It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou
William Shakespeare
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
William Shakespeare
