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He does me double wrong That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
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
Doe
Flatteries
Flattery
Double
Wounds
Tongue
Wrong
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.
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My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
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And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.
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You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness!
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Those that much covet are with gain so fond, For what they have not, that which they possess They scatter and unloose it from their bond, And so, by hoping more, they have but less Or, gaining more, the profit of excess Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.
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It is the disease of not listening...... that I am troubled with.
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There is a tide in the affairs of men
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I’ll look to like, if looking liking move But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
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Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
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Music, moody food Of us that trade in love.
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This liberty is all that I request.
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Ay me! for aught that ever I could read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.
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If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect. We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
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With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.
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Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
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Tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation.
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Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.
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Our jovial star reigned at his birth.
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From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world.
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What is light, if Sylvia be not seen? What is joy if Sylvia be not by?
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