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Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
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
Left
Post
Posts
Unrighteous
Wicked
Incestuous
Speed
Flushing
Tears
Gall
Married
Dexterity
Eyes
Sheets
Eye
Salt
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... When in eternal lines to time thou growst So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
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O gentle son, Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper, sprinkle cool patience.
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Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.
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O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. - Romeo -
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This is the third time I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.
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Fie, fie, how frantically I square my talk!
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My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!
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The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life.
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That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches one that would circumvent God, might it not?
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Perseverance, my dear Lord. Keeps honour bright.
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Bosom upon my counsel You'll find it wholesome.
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Spirits are not finely touched But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But like a thrifty goddess she determines Herself the glory of a creditor,Both thanks and use.
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Full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
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What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
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Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
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Men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty To load a falling man.
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The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
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O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
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So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
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