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Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
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
Tears
Sweet
Trickling
Weep
Queen
Queens
Vain
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears: But yet It is our trick nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out. — Adieu, my lord! I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it.
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I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both.
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Who is it that can tell me who I am?
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My charity is outrage, life my shame And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!
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You are an alchemist make gold of that.
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Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
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The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
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The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And Nature must obey necessity.
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His worst fault is, he's given to prayer he is something peevish that way.
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Love, which teacheth me that thou and I am one
William Shakespeare
What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!
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Pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
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There is a devilish mercy in the judge, if you'll implore it, that will free your life, but fetter you till death.
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I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes when they are in great danger I recover them.
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A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.
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Let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
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Romeo: I dreamt a dream tonight. Mercutio: And so did I. Romeo: Well, what was yours? Mercutio: That dreamers often lie. Romeo: In bed asleep while they do dream things true.
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As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
William Shakespeare
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate his tears pure messengers sent from his heart his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth
William Shakespeare
Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?
William Shakespeare
