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That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
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
Noble
Cold
Mean
Men
Entitle
Cowardice
Pale
Breasts
Patience
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You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you.
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I stand for judgment: answer: shall I have it?
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Manhood is melted into courtesies, valor into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones, too.
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I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.
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My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
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Wait for the season when to cast good counsels upon subsiding passion.
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Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud but, God He knows, thy share thereof is small.
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Like madness, is the glory of this life.
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He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.
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We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.
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Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
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