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Plenty and peace breed cowards hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
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
Breed
Coward
Plenty
Peace
Mother
Ever
Hardiness
Hardness
Cowards
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All the world's a stage.
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Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
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My falcon now is sharp and passing empty, and till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, for then she never looks upon her lure.
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This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
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He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf.
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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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Stars, hide your fires Let not light see my black and deep desires.
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Why should honor outlive honestly? Orthello
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The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman and to be King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor.
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My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.
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Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
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I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!
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