William Shakespeare

William
Shakespeare
1564
1616

English Playwright, Poet, Most widely known Writer in English Literature

Author Quotes

Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye.

So bloodily hast, struck?

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

So many hours must I take my rest; so many hours must I contemplate.

So slippery that the fear's as bad as falling.

So true a fool is love that in your will, though you do anything, he thinks no ill.

So. Lie there, my art.

Some guard these traitors to the block of death, Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.

Something wicked this way comes.

Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, by use all gently, for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and noise. I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant. It out-herods Herod. Pray you avoid it. Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature. For anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve, the censure of the which one must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to speak profanely), that neither having th' accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. Reform it altogether! And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them, for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary question of the play be then to be considered. That's villainous and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go make you ready. Hamlet, Act iii, Scene 2

Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.

She would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too.

Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, and pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; thou canst help time to furrow me with age, but stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.

Silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.

Since I was man, such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry th' affliction nor the fear.

SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK: I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether (He's an oddity in that he enjoys having fun)

Sir, I shall not be slack, in sign whereof, Please ye we may convive this afternoon And quaff carouses to our mistress's health, And do as adversaries do in law, Strive mightily but eat and drink as friends.

Sits the wind in that corner?

Slender: Why do your dogs bark so? Be there bears i' the town? Anne: I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of.

So call the field to rest: and let's away, to part the glories of this happy day.

So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical. Twelfth Night, or, What You Will (Orsino, Duke of Illyria at I, i)

So many miseries have craz'd my voice, that my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.

So smile the heavens upon this holy act that after-hours with sorrow chide us not!

So turns she every man the wrong side out, and never gives to truth and virtue that which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Author Picture
First Name
William
Last Name
Shakespeare
Birth Date
1564
Death Date
1616
Bio

English Playwright, Poet, Most widely known Writer in English Literature