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Base is the slave that pays.
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
Slavery
Slave
Pay
Pays
Base
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Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.
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Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
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I'll have no husband, if you be not he.
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
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They that touch pitch will be defiled.
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There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.
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Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.
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My love is thaw'd Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was
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If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.
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We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.
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Grief makes one hour ten.
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
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As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
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I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.
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As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue
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The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
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I profess not talking: only this, Let each man do his best.
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And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot And thereby hangs a tale.
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Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends.
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