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Liberty plucks justice by the nose The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.
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
Justice
Nurse
Nose
Noses
Beats
Baby
Plucks
Goes
Athwart
Liberty
Decorum
Quite
Pluck
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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Better be with the dead, Whom we to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.
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Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
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[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
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For 'tis the sport to have the engineerHoist with his own petard.
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An envious fever of pale and bloodless emulation.
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Death where is thy sting? Love, where is thy glory?
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Ay beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
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Haste is needful in a desperate case.
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For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
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Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
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Let the end try the man.
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I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
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Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.
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Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.
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Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
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How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
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Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down?
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Give thy thoughts no tongue.
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