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Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.
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
Little
Phrase
Rude
Phrases
Soft
Blessed
Speech
Peace
Littles
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She marking them begins a wailing note And sings extemporally a woeful ditty How love makes young men thrall and old men dote How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, And still the choir of echoes answer so.
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Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight?
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Men from children nothing differ.
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Tis a cruelty to load a fallen man.
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But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens!
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Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.
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Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
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An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
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We must every one be a man of his own fancy.
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Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
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The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
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Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
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Thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh And sees fast-by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
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