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To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much.
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
Much
Whereof
Satiety
Loathe
Sweetness
Taste
Littles
Little
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Let me have men about me that are fat... Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
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Talkers are no good doers.
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Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian- Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong- Would here have kill'd your king, I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art.
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They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
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I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged.
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What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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There's husbandry in heaven Their candles are all out.
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If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
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My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation.
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