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How many a holy and obsequious tear hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye, as interest of the dead!
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
Holy
Obsequious
Dead
Tear
Religious
Stolen
Interest
Hath
Eye
Dear
Many
Mines
Love
Mine
Tears
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The labor we delight in physics [cures] pain.
William Shakespeare
To bed, to bed sleep kill those pretty eyes, And give as soft attachment to thy senses, As infants empty of all thought.
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You are yoked with a lamb, That carries anger as the flint bears fire Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spank, And straight is cold again.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight which therein works a miracle in Nature, making them lightest that wear most of it: so are those crisped snaky golden locks which make such wanton gambols with the wind upon supposed fairness, often known to be the dowry of a second head, the skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
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There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable.
William Shakespeare
O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
William Shakespeare
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts To courtship and such fair ostents of love As shall conveniently become you there.
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Corruption wins not more than honesty.
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Men that make Envy and crooked malice nourishment, Dare bite the best.
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Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt.
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However wickedness outstrips men, it has no wings to fly from God.
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I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service.
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ROMEO There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave for there must I use thee.
William Shakespeare
Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.
William Shakespeare
My wits begin to turn.
William Shakespeare
What wouldst thou do, old man? Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows?
William Shakespeare
A poor thing, perhaps, but my own.
William Shakespeare
Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
William Shakespeare
It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
William Shakespeare
To wilful men, the injuries that they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters.
William Shakespeare
