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Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. 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
Kind
Thus
Make
Female
Four
Curst
Poor
Cupid
Comes
Lad
Three
Females
Two
Mad
Come
Kinds
More quotes by William Shakespeare
So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.
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The error of our eye directs our mind. What error leads must err.
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I...Kisss the tender inward of thy hand.
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There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.
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I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
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Speak comfortable words.
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Talkers are no good doers.
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All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one.
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Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.
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Graze on my lips and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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The setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.
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To be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.
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Art made tongue-tied by authority.
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I have drunk and seen the spider.
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Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
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A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff.
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Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
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Do not for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect.
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A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in.
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So far be distant and good night, sweet friend: thy love ne'er alter, till they sweet life end
William Shakespeare
