William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Quotes

  • ''Unhand me, gentlemen.
    By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Hamlet, in Hamlet, act 1, sc. 4, l. 84-5. To his companions who try to stop Hamlet following his father's ghost; "lets" means hinders.
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  • ''God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Hamlet to Ophelia, in Hamlet, act 3, sc. 1.
  • ''Constant you are,
    But yet a woman, and for secrecy,
    No lady closer, for I well believe
    Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know,
    And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Hotspur, in Henry IV, Part 1, act 2, sc. 3, l. 108-12. Refusing to tell her his purpose of armed rebellion against the king.
  • ''Man, proud man,
    Drest in a little brief authority,
    Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
    His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
    Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
    As make the angels weep.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Isabella, in Measure for Measure, act 2, sc. 2.
  • ''Now I see our lances are but straws,
    Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
    That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Katherina, in The Taming of the Shrew, act 5, sc. 2, l. 173-5. Saying, for the benefit of the headstrong Widow and Bianca, that women's weapons (words, temper, anger) are weak, offering a mere appearance of strength.
  • ''I will tell thee in French—which I am sure will hang upon my
    tongue like a new-married wife about her husband's neck,
    hardly to be shook off.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. King Henry, in Henry V, act 5, sc. 2, 177-81. On his difficulty in finding French words in which to make love to Katherine.
  • ''O that I were a mockery king of snow,
    Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
    To melt myself away in water drops!''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. King Richard, in Richard II, act 4, sc. 1, l. 260. Humiliated in front of the whole court.
  • ''Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage, blow!
    You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
    Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Lear, in King Lear, act 3, sc. 2, l. 1-3. Cast out in the storm, he welcomes it with a storm of words; "cocks" means weathercocks.
  • ''New customs,
    Though they be never so ridiculous
    (Nay, let 'em be unmanly) yet are followed.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Lord Sands, in Henry VIII, act 1, sc. 3, l. 2-4. On new fashions imported from France.
  • ''After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.
    Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison,
    Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing
    Can touch him further.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Macbeth, in Macbeth, act 3, sc. 2, l. 25-8 (1623). Referring to Duncan.

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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 Li

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;

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