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Thus conscience does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought

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
Make
Native
Cast
Casts
Thus
Hue
Conscience
Cowards
Speech
Coward
Thought
Pale
Doe
Resolution

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I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
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Guiltiness will speak, though tongues were out of use
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I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.
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Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.
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If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.
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I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face.
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Sin will pluck on sin.
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Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, and clap thyself my love then didst thou utter, I am your's for ever!
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You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
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To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just.
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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase you vile standing-tuck!
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The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water.
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O that a lady, of one man refused, Should of another therefore be abused!
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My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax no levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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The setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.
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I have nothing Of woman in me now from head to foot I am marble-constant.
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