William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Quotes

  • ''So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet. I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Hostess Quickly, in Henry V, act 2, sc. 3, l. 25-6. On Falstaff dying; "as cold as a stone" was proverbial.
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  • ''I would have broke mine eye-strings, cracked them, but
    To look upon him, till the diminution
    Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle;
    Nay, followed him till he had melted from
    The smallness of a gnat to air, and then
    Have turned mine eye and wept.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Imogen, in Cymbeline, act 1, sc. 3, l. 17-22. To Pisanio, who watched her husband, Posthumus, sail away.
  • ''But 'tis a common proof
    That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
    Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
    But when he once attains the upmost round
    He then unto the ladder turns his back,
    Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
    By which he did ascend.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. Julius Caesar (II, i). NAWM-1. The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
  • ''I am glad thou canst speak no better English, for if thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my crown.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. King Henry, in Henry V, act 5, sc. 2, l. 124-6. Apologizing to Katherine for his roughness.
  • ''The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed
    The shadow of your face.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. King Richard II (IV, i). . . The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
  • ''Give me your blessing; truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son may, but in the end truth will out.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Launcelot Gobbo, in The Merchant of Venice, act 2, sc. 2, l. 78-80. Comically acknowledging that he is old Gobbo's son.
  • ''Ligarius. What's to do?
    Brutus. A piece of work that will make sick men whole.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Ligarius and Brutus, in Julius Caesar, act 2, sc. 1, l. 326-7. The "work" is the planned killing of Caesar.
  • ''Duncan is in his grave;
    After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Macbeth, in Macbeth, act 3, sc. 2, l. 22-3.
  • ''A day in April never came so sweet,
    To show how costly summer was at hand,
    As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Messenger, in The Merchant of Venice, act 2, sc. 9, l. 93-5. On the messenger who announces the coming of Bassanio; "costly" means rich, splendid.
  • '''Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Old Shepherd, in The Winter's Tale, act 3, sc. 3, l. 138-9. On finding the gold left with the baby Perdita by Antigonus.

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Best Poem of William Shakespeare

All The World's A Stage

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in ...

Read the full of All The World's A Stage

Sonnet Cviii

What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case

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