William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Quotes

  • ''Famine is in thy cheeks,
    Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,
    Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;
    The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Romeo, in Romeo and Juliet, act 5, sc. 1, l. 69-72. Speaking to the poor apothecary whose poison he is seeking to buy; "starveth" means are shown by your look of starvation.
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  • ''What's to do?
    Shall we go see the relics of this town?''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Sebastian, in Twelfth Night, act 3, sc. 3, l. 18-9. To Antonio, on arriving in Illyria; "relics" means antiquities.
  • ''Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
    Calls back the lovely April of her prime.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Sonnet 3.
  • '''Tis not enough to help the feeble up,
    But to support him after.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Timon, in Timon of Athens, act 1, sc. 1, l. 107-8. On Ventidius, imprisoned for debt.
  • ''Time is like a fashionable host,
    That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,
    And with his arms outstretched, as he would fly,
    Grasps in the comer: the welcome ever smiles,
    And farewell goes out sighing.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Ulysses, in Troilus and Cressida, act 3, sc. 3, l. 165-9. Telling Achilles that his past achievements are soon forgotten.
  • ''The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
    Are of imagination all compact.
    One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
    That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
    Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
    The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
    Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
    And as imagination bodies forth
    The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
    Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
    A local habitation and a name.
    Such tricks hath strong imagination
    That, if it would but apprehend some joy,
    It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
    Or in the night, imagining some fear,
    How easy is a bush supposed a bear!''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. A Midsummer Night's Dream (V, i). . . The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
  • ''Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
    That ever lived in the tide of times.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Antony, in Julius Caesar, act 3, sc. 1, l. 256-7. Mourning Caesar; "tide of times" means course of history.
  • ''Here choose I. Joy be the consequence!''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Bassanio, in The Merchant of Venice, act 3, sc. 2, l. 107. Choosing the leaden casket to win Portia.
  • ''What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights,
    Eightscore-eight hours, and lovers' absent hours
    More tedious than the dial eightscore times!
    O weary reckoning!''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Bianca, in Othello, act 3, sc. 4, l. 173-6. On Cassio's neglect of her.
  • ''Give me your hands all over, one by one.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Brutus, in Julius Caesar, act 2, sc. 1, l. 112.

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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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