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I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)

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
Daughter
Making
Comes
Tell
Iago
Two
Moor
Moors
Backs
Beast

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Educated men are so impressive.
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Olivia: What's a drunken man like, fool? Feste: Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool the second mads him and a third drowns him.
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But I will be, A bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a lover's bed.
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You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
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Love is merely a madness and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too.
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I am falser than vows made in wine.
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We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.
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He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion.
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Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
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Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
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How my achievements mock me!
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Give me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all unkindness.
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Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome therefore I will depart unkissed.
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That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.
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Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won?
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I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
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Ay me! for aught that ever I could read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.
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Let them obey that knows not how to rule.
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Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
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Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should drew us fairly for our end.
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