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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
War
Send
Order
Compromise
Play
Fairs
Insinuation
Make
Fair
Invasive
Arms
Truce
Shall
Footing
Land
Orders
Upon
Base
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.
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Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!
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You cannot make gross sins look clear: To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
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You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.
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Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.
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Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror
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But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
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The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down.
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As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
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Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death.
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Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
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Hang those that talk of fear.
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Hamlet: Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Ophelia: No, my lord. Hamlet: DId you think I meant country matters? Ophelia: I think nothing, my lord. Hamlet: That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. Ophelia: What is, my lord? Hamlet: Nothing.
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And too soon Marred are those so early Made.
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The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
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To be furious, is to be frighted out of fear.
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Be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech.
William Shakespeare
