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The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow.
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
Icicles
Chaste
Purest
Frost
Rome
Snow
Moon
Icicle
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity.
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Cease to lament for that thou canst not help and study help for that which thou lamentest.
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No worse a husband than the best of men.
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And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence
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Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.
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So our virtues lie in the interpretation of the time
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That we would do We should do when we would, for this 'would' changes, And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents, And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing.
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Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
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A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously the very ice of chastity is in them.
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A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.
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They are hare-brain'd slaves.
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Words pay no debts, give her deeds.
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Old Time the clock-setter.
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Grief best is pleased with grief's society.
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From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing.
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Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. Poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.
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I love thee none but thee, and thou deservest it
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Hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
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Such antics do not amount to a man.
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Every cloud engenders not a storm.
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