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A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*
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
Littles
Little
Self
Peevish
Brat
Willed
Stubborn
More quotes by William Shakespeare
And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That makes ingrateful man!
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Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
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And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.
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Love is a wonderful, terrible thing
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Let the galled jade wince our withers are unwrung.
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It may do good pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride, for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.
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Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, But then woos best when most his choice is froward.
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Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!
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Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find.
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Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden.
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The Devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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The latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast, Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest.
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So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in stronds afar remote.
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Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit.
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Take all the swift advantage of the hours.
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Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
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Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal.
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Tis gold Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up This deer to th' stand o' th' stealer: and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief, Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man.
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O villains, vipers, dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
William Shakespeare
