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Truly the souls of men are full of dread: Ye cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of fear.
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
Men
Truly
Full
Almost
Fear
Cannot
Soul
Heavily
Reason
Dread
Looks
Souls
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Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.
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In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.
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I myself am best When least in company.
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The play's the thing.
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Nature does require her times of preservation.
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More matter with less art.
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Danger knows full well that Caesar is more dangerous than he. We are two lions litter’d in one day, and I the elder and more terrible.
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That island of England breeds very valiant creatures their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
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Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offense?
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Instinct is a great matter. I was now a coward on instinct.
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I prithee gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passions, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace.
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But 'tis common proof, that lowliness is young ambition's ladder, whereto the climber-upward turns his face but when he once attains the upmost round, he then turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the vase defrees by which he did ascend.
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O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
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A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
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When faced with a sea of troubles, take action, and in so doing end it.
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Make the upcoming hour overflow with joy, and let pleasure drown the brim.
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Macduff: What three things does drink especially provoke? Porter: Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine.
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As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.
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What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.
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I will be master of what is mine own: She is my goods, my chattels she is my house, My household stuff, my field, my barn, My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing.
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