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So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies.
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
Laugh
Cordelia
Laughing
Gilded
Tell
Butterflies
Live
Butterfly
Tales
Pray
Sing
Praying
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If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
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Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country, as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court.
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You taught me language, and my profit on't / Is, I know how to curse
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We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
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Violent fires soon burn out themselves, small showers last long, but sudden storms are short he tires betimes that spurs too fast.
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But indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offenses as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.
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... by indirections find directions out.
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Ships are but boards, sailors but men.
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In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow
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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
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Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.
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Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
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France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot.
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Few things loves better Than to abhor himself.
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Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.
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Tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdened crawl toward death.
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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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An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
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