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But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
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
Blessed
Mayst
Blot
Fears
Appreciation
Fairs
False
Fair
Thou
More quotes by William Shakespeare
How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
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A gentleman that loves to hear himself talk, will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
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Temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart.
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Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan The outward habit by the inward man.
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To be, or not to be, that is the question.
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This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change, For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
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We are ready to try our fortunes to the last man.
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Oh what fools we mortals are.
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So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in stronds afar remote.
William Shakespeare
If you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt.
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If ever (as that ever may be near) you meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, then shall you know the wounds invisible that love's keen, arrows make.
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Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse.
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Prosperity's the very bond of love.
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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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To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
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Many strokes, though with a little axe, hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
William Shakespeare
A man can die but once.
William Shakespeare
Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I every man to his business.
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O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
William Shakespeare