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Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty Calls virtue hypocrite takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths.
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
Fair
Oath
Inconstancy
Rose
Fairness
Vows
Marriage
Modesty
Blush
Grace
Sets
Forehead
Virtue
Calls
Vow
Blister
Takes
Fairs
Foreheads
Blurs
Makes
Innocent
Blur
Oaths
Love
False
Hypocrite
Blisters
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Dreams are the children of idled minds.
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Nothing can come of nothing.
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Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
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A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
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Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
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Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.
William Shakespeare
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought.
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You are an alchemist make gold of that.
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Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
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Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
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When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy, over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
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Speak low, if you speak love.
William Shakespeare
An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
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Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
William Shakespeare
The Dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service Are they inform'd of this?
William Shakespeare
Fie, fie, how frantically I square my talk!
William Shakespeare
Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service
William Shakespeare
But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens!
William Shakespeare
Remuneration! O! That's the Latin word for three farthings
William Shakespeare
A flock of blessings light upon thy back
William Shakespeare
