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With this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature. for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature.
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
Ends
Mirrors
Anything
Whose
Firsts
Hold
First
Playing
Twere
Special
Overdone
Acting
Observance
Purpose
Modesty
Nature
Mirror
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Done to death by slanderous tongue
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The proverb is something musty.
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He who has injured thee was either stronger or weaker than thee. If weaker, spare him if stronger, spare thyself.
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Most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.
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No, no, I am but shadow of myself: You are deceived, my substance is not here.
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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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It is not vain glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber.
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Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.
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It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou
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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
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What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?
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All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.
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Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
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And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
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Love yourself and in that love not unconsidered leave your honor.
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Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
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The due of honor in no point omit.
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As good luck would have it.
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Oh, that way madness lies let me shun that.
William Shakespeare
