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I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.
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
King
Illusion
Kings
Men
Think
Violet
Thinking
Smells
Doth
Smell
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Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning One pain is less'ned by another's anguish Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning One desperate grief cures with another's languish.
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Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
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She is a woman, therefore to be won.
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There was a star danced, and under that was I born.
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Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
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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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Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.
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A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!
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A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool! a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
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Thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.
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As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
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Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
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Love yourself and in that love not unconsidered leave your honor.
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Small things make base men proud.
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible.
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Mine honor is my life, both grow in one. Take honor from me, and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try In that I live, and for that I will die.
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