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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
Horse
Mend
Beating
Ass
Pace
Dull
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Wise men never sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.
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God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
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T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
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You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.
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Who is it that can tell me who I am?
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Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.
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Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller.
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The sense of death is most in apprehension, And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
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Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
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Under loves heavy burden do I sink. --Romeo
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They are sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.
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In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.
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All that glisters is not gold Often have you heard that told.
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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, From earth to heaven.
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Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
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