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One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.
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
Deeds
Praise
Dying
Thousand
Slaughters
Waiting
Praises
Upon
Slaughter
Death
Deed
Good
Wages
More quotes by William Shakespeare
So. Lie there, my art.
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Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.
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Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
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A poor thing, perhaps, but my own.
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Full of wise saws and modern instances.
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Lords, knights and gentlemen, what I should say My tears gainsay for every word I speak, Ye see I drink the water of my eye.
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Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
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Set we forward let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud's town march, And in the temple of the great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
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There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
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O, the blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
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He wears the rose Of youth upon him.
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Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us anything.
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Such as we are made of, such we be.
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Pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
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A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*
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Loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
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It is a heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in it.
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As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below.
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The will of man is by his reason sway'd.
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Prosperity's the very bond of love.
William Shakespeare
