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I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
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
Fool
Leave
Politics
Faction
Keep
Factions
Stirring
Fools
Wit
Intelligence
More quotes by William Shakespeare
How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over In states unborn and accents yet unknown!
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
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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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Thus conscience does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought
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There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.
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Be just, and fear not.
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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle.
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A wicked conscience mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
William Shakespeare
Liberty plucks justice by the nose The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.
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All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
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It is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change.
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He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
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Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear and from the tents The armorers accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation.
William Shakespeare
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate
William Shakespeare
My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul.
William Shakespeare
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
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My charity is outrage, life my shame And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!
William Shakespeare
The prize of all too precious you.
William Shakespeare
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
William Shakespeare