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Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
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
Insects
Deliberate
Candle
Fools
Hath
Thus
Sing
Moth
Fool
Moths
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If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers
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You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
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To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much.
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Because I cannot flatter and look fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy.
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Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.
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The worm is not to be trusted.
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Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear a robust periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings.
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The big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, In piteous chase.
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Well, honor is the subject of my story.
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Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires.
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I am a subject, And I challenge law. Attorneys are denied me, And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent.
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I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!
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The people are the city.
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Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire.
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Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.
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Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.
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There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.
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There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous men.
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There is none of my uncle's marks upon you he taught me how to know a man in love in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner.
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So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.
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