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Extremity is the trier of spirits.
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
Trier
Extremity
Spirits
Extremes
Spirit
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
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Ships are but boards, sailors but men.
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Love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition: Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away.
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As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
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I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
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Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?
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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?
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My love is deep the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
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If't be summer news, Smile to't before if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still.
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What is the city but the people?
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The mightier man, the mightier is the thing That makes him honored or begets him hate For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
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You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
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Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
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Be not afeard the isle is full of noises.
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Whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
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No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape back- wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?
William Shakespeare
When we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.
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He makes a July's day short as December.
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All that glitters is not gold.
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