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Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
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
Mortals
Mad
Thus
Poor
Dream
Midsummer
Make
Cupid
Lad
Females
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If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.
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I dote on his very absence.
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What soilders whey-face? The English for so please you. Take thy face hence.
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Send danger from the east unto the west, so honor cross it from the north to south.
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The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to.
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When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
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No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
William Shakespeare
You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.
William Shakespeare
O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
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As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and in her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
William Shakespeare
I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, then mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb increase, And treasure of my loins.
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O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!
William Shakespeare
There is flattery in friendship.
William Shakespeare
He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
William Shakespeare
A little more than kin, and less than kind.
William Shakespeare
