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Oh, I have passed a miserable night, so full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams!
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
Miserable
Ugly
Sight
Dreams
Full
Ghastly
Night
Sights
Dream
Ugliness
Passed
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
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Hereditary sloth instructs me.
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This is the short and the long of it.
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Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound And through this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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O, the difference of man and man! To thee a woman's services are due.
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To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain If lost, why then a grievous labour won However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
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I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, then mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb increase, And treasure of my loins.
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Dreams, indeed, are ambition for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
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The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.
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Men's evil manners live in brass their virtues we write in water.
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For there was never yet philosoper That could endure the toothache patiently, However they have writ the style of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance.
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Forget, forgive conclude, and be agreed.
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You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes still am I King of those.
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The past is prologue.
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Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
William Shakespeare
O hell! to choose love with another's eye.
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That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
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The sense of death is most in apprehension.
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How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!
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Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked?
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