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Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds Do sorely ruffle for many miles about There's scarce a bush.
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
Wind
Ruffles
Comes
Sorely
Night
Bleak
Many
Scarce
Winds
Wilderness
Bush
Miles
Ruffle
More quotes by William Shakespeare
My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dashed all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished!
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My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy.
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But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.
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Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!
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What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
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A blind man can't forget the eyesight he lost, show me any beautiful girl. How can her beauty not remind me of the one whose beauty surpasses hers?
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Thou art a Castilian King urinal!
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To offend and judge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
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There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
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The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you The malice towards you to forgive you.
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Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.
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Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
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O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
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Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
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We must every one be a man of his own fancy.
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Be to yourself as you would to your friend.
William Shakespeare
The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
William Shakespeare
As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below.
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Every fair from fair sometime declines
William Shakespeare
