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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

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
Mean
Grace
Commend
Gone
Graces
Though
Flatter
Whatever
Doth
Faces
Flattery
Black
Angels
Away
Angel
Repulse
Take
Praise
Extol

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Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
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Then others for breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
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Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast.
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For I am he am born to tame you, Kate and bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate conformable as other household Kates.
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She is your treasure, she must have a husband I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day, And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.
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A light heart lives long.
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
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That we would do We should do when we would, for this 'would' changes, And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents, And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing.
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Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! *It’s sad. Love looks like a nice thing, but it’s actually very rough when you experience it.*
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I have drunk and seen the spider.
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The why is plain as way to parish church: He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob if not, The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool.
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A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.
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For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.
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Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.
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Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.
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I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
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Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
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I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)
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You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
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In such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears.
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