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Shall we upon the footing of our land Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce, To arms invasive?
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
Upon
Base
War
Send
Order
Compromise
Play
Fairs
Insinuation
Make
Fair
Invasive
Arms
Truce
Shall
Footing
Land
Orders
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I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come (Phebe)
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Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.
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These signs have marked me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men.
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What is aught but as 'tis valued?
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Be great in act, as you have been in thought.
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We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.
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It is a good divine that follows his own instructions.
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Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.
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They do not abuse the king that flatter him. For flattery is the bellows blows up sin The thing the which is flattered, but a spark To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing.
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Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
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No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns.
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That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold What hath quenched them hath given me fire.
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Making night hideous.
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Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.
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Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, and in the calmest and most stillest night, with all appliances and means to boot, deny it to a king?
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The king is but a man, as I am the violet smells to him as it doth to me the element shows to him as it doth to me all his senses have but human conditions his ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing.
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Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
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GLOUCESTER: Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But God be thanked. . . .
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Besides, our nearness to the King in love Is near the hate of those love not the King.
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