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You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.
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
Pace
Dull
Horse
Mend
Beating
Ass
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on.
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England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune.
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How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
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A miracle. Here's our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity. Beatrice: I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. Benedick: Peace. I will stop your mouth.
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They say best men are molded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad
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These words are razors to my wounded heart.
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Hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
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We suffer a lot the few things we lack and we enjoy too little the many things we have.
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Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.
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The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow.
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Give me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all unkindness.
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When you fear a foe, fear crushes your strength and this weakness gives strength to your opponents.
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Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently.
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To go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes
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My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except.
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I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!
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Though Fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.
William Shakespeare
Take no repulse, whatever she doth say For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.' Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces
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Put on The dauntless spirit of resolution.
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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