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Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Shalt
Stir
Foe
Foot
Thou
Seek
Feet
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Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come
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Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.
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Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom. It fills a man full of obstacles. It made me once restore a purse of gold that (by chance) I found. It beggars any man that keeps it.
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Confess yourself to heaven, Repent what's past, avoid what is to come, And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker.
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He receives comfort like cold porridge.
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An angel or, if not, An earthly paragon.
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Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
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A scar nobly got is a good livery of honor.
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you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems best.
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By being seldom seen, I could not stir But like a comet I was wondered at.
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We must follow, not force Providence.
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
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Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me.
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Weed your better judgments of all opinion that grows rank in them.
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There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
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And simple truth miscalled simplicity
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If ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it remember me For such as I am all true lovers are, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else Save in the constant image of the creature That is beloved.
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The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
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I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
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