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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.
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
Figure
Figures
Lamb
Promise
Feats
Courage
Borne
Beyond
Lambs
Age
Lion
Lions
Hath
More quotes by William Shakespeare
It is held that valor is the chiefest virtue, and most dignifies the haver.
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Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep.
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Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
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Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered by a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marle?
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I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.
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Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, Yet hold I off.
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Thy friendship makes us fresh.
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What are you doing sister? / Killing swine.
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This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
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And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.
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What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart
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For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
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My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.
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Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
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But virtue never will be mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven.
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Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.
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Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
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Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men?
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Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you.
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