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I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world.
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
Swear
Queens
Would
World
Royalty
Queen
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Anger's my meat. I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding.
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And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
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Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country, as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court.
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Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.
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For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
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Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator.
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The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
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All the world's a stage.
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Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure.
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Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.
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It provokes the desire but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him and it mars him it sets him on and it takes him off.
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We that are true lovers run into strange capers but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
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There is none of my uncle's marks upon you he taught me how to know a man in love in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.
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When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
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A very little little let us do And all is done.
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I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well
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Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it.
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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.
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He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
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The mightier man, the mightier is the thing That makes him honored or begets him hate For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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