William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Quotes

  • ''Then must you speak
    Of one the lov'd not wisely but too well;
    Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
    Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
    Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
    Richer than all his tribe;''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. Othello (V, ii). . . The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
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  • ''Daffodils,
    That come before the swallow dares, and take
    The winds of March with beauty.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Perdita, in The Winter's Tale, act 4, sc. 4, l. 118-20. Perdita wishes for flowers to express her love for Florizel.
  • ''There is not one among them but I dote on his very absence.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Portia, in The Merchant of Venice, act 1, sc. 2, l. 109-10. Dismayed by all her suitors, she wishes they would go away.
  • ''"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves."''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Prince of Morocco, in The Merchant of Venice, act 2, sc. 7, l. 23. Reading the message on the silver casket.
  • ''O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Richard, in Richard III, act 5, sc. 3, l. 179. Starting out of a nightmare.
  • ''If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a
    good play needs no epilogue.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Rosalind, in As You Like It, epilogue, l. 3-5. It was proverbial that a good wine needed no bush, or sign, hung out to advertise sale of it.
  • ''I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Sir Andrew Aguecheek, in Twelfth Night, act 1, sc. 3, l. 85-6. Eating beef was proverbially linked to being stupid or "beef-witted."
  • '''O opportunity! thy guilt is great,
    'Tis thou that execut'st the traitor's treason;
    Thou set'st the wolf where he the lamb may get;
    Whoever plots the sin, thou point'st the season;
    'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason;
    And in thy shady cell, where none may spy him,
    Sits Sin to seize the souls that wander by him.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. The Rape of Lucrece (l. 1-8). . . The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
  • ''To get your living by the copulation of cattle.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British dramatist, poet. Touchstone, in As You Like It, act 3, sc. 2, l. 79-80. Mocking Corin, the shepherd, about country life.
  • ''When I do count the clock that tells the time,
    And see the brave day sunk in hideous night,
    When I behold the violet past prime,
    And sable curls all silvered o'er with white:
    When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
    Which erst from heat did canopy the herd
    And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
    Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard:
    Then of thy beauty do I question make
    That thou among the wastes of time must go,
    Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,
    And die as fast as they see others grow,
    And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
    Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence.''
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), British poet. When I do count the clock that tells the time (l. 1-14). . . The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.

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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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