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I would that I were low laid in my grave. I am not worth this coil that's made for me.
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
Coil
Laid
Grave
Graves
Lows
Worth
Made
Would
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness.
William Shakespeare
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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Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.
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By my soul I swear, there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me.
William Shakespeare
The best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed by those that feel their sharpness.
William Shakespeare
For a noble heart, the most precious gift becomes poor, when the giver stops loving.
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Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
William Shakespeare
Speak, what trade art thou? Why, sir, a carpenter. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? What does thou with thy best apparel on?
William Shakespeare
Heaven is above all yet there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
William Shakespeare
Thanks to men Of noble minds, is honorable meed.
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He must needs go that the devil drives.
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But it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in the most humorous sadness.
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Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure.
William Shakespeare
Nor age so eat up my invention.
William Shakespeare
My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
William Shakespeare
Those that much covet are with gain so fond, For what they have not, that which they possess They scatter and unloose it from their bond, And so, by hoping more, they have but less Or, gaining more, the profit of excess Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.
William Shakespeare
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .
William Shakespeare
Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues.
William Shakespeare
We must every one be a man of his own fancy.
William Shakespeare
Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful Mine ears, that heard her flattery nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.
William Shakespeare
