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Avaunt, you cullions!

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
Sassy

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Be as just and gracious unto me, As I am confident and kind to thee.
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Be like you thought our love would last too long, if it were chain'd together
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Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight which therein works a miracle in Nature, making them lightest that wear most of it: so are those crisped snaky golden locks which make such wanton gambols with the wind upon supposed fairness, often known to be the dowry of a second head, the skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
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Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all!
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How slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a stepdame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
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The fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband.
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I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both.
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Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
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She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
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T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
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Plenty and peace breed cowards hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
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Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure.
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Never he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety: other women cloy The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies.
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As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife.
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Let still woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart, For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn, Than women's are.
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The evil that men do lives after them the good is oft interred with their bones.
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To sue to live, I find I seek to die And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.
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Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed.
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For there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm It is the woman's part.
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