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Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands, But more when envy breeds unkind division: There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.
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
Begins
Childhood
Unkind
Politics
Breeds
Ruin
Comes
Division
Hands
Ruins
Children
Confusion
Much
Envy
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords!
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A noble shalt thou have, and present pay And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
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Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
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Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law 'twill hardly come out.
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To offend and judge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!
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Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.
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Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
William Shakespeare
Give me a staff of honor for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world.
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For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye're so slight.
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Comets importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky And with them scourge the bad revolting stars.
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The present eye praises the present object.
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This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
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What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused.
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How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
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O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
William Shakespeare
There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
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So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.
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Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
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