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The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves, Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.
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
Wind
Trumpet
Purpose
Tempest
Play
Trumpets
Doth
Hollow
Purposes
Blustering
Southern
Foretells
Leaves
Whistling
More quotes by William Shakespeare
If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.
William Shakespeare
We cannot conceive of matter being formed of nothing, since things require a seed to start from... Therefore there is not anything which returns to nothing, but all things return dissolved into their elements.
William Shakespeare
Coal-black is better than another hue In that it scorns to bear another hue For all the water in the ocean Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood.
William Shakespeare
I stand for judgment: answer: shall I have it?
William Shakespeare
Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
William Shakespeare
For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!
William Shakespeare
Faults that are rich are fair.
William Shakespeare
Oh, I have passed a miserable night, so full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams!
William Shakespeare
Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity
William Shakespeare
Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute.
William Shakespeare
A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
William Shakespeare
... And death unloads thee.
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I will be master of what is mine own: She is my goods, my chattels she is my house, My household stuff, my field, my barn, My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing.
William Shakespeare
You cannot make gross sins look clear: To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
William Shakespeare
Who can be patient in extremes?
William Shakespeare
So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.
William Shakespeare
I am as true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth.
William Shakespeare
Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
William Shakespeare
I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.
William Shakespeare
