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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
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You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you And here remain with your uncertainty!
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Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires.
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life
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And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.
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All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.
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How use doth breed a habit in a man.
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Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
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Though I am not naturally honest, I am sometimes so by chance.
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It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
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For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
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I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
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What's his offense? Groping for trout in a peculiar river.
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The love of wicked men converts to fear That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
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Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
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There's daggers in men's smiles.
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Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell.
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The heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the east.
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Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
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Why, thou owest god a death.
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I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation.
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