William Shakespeare White Quotations

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks...

Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses.

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.

Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality.

Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, and clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter, I am your's for ever!

Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.

He is white-livered and red-faced.

Coal-black is better than another hue In that it scorns to bear another hue; For all the water in the ocean Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood.

How many cowards whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, Who inward searched, have livers white as milk!

An old black ram is tupping your white ewe

Come away, come away, Death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it! My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strewn: Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there!

If she be made of white and red, Her faults will ne'er be known, For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, And fears by pale white shown: Then if she fear or be to blame, By this you shall not know, For still her cheeks possess the same, Which native s

How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!

Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.