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A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing.
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
Bottom
Among
Thing
Midsummer
Dreadful
Lion
Ladies
Lions
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.
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This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin there shall I end My life is run his compass.
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I have drunk and seen the spider.
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Wait for the season when to cast good counsels upon subsiding passion.
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I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting
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Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
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Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
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My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.
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If people knew how much I hated them, they'd love me for holding it in.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
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I am giddy, expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense.
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Love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition: Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away.
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To persevere In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness: 'tis unmanly grief.
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There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.
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But I am constant as the Northern Star, Of whose true fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.
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Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
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It is great sin to swear unto a sin, But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.
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What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood Is there not rain enough in the sweet heaves To wash it white as snow?
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O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
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