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Faint heart never won fair maid.
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
Never
Maid
Maids
Faint
Fairs
Fair
Heart
More quotes by William Shakespeare
These cardinals trifle with me I abhor This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
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This is the third time I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.
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Hope is a lover's staff walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts.
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O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world, And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation.
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Greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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Thou frothy tickle-brained hedge-pig!
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Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.
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Death rock me asleep.
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The means that heaven yields must be embraced, and not neglected else, if heaven would, and we will not heaven's offer, we refuse the proffered means of succor and redress.
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But 'tis common proof, that lowliness is young ambition's ladder, whereto the climber-upward turns his face but when he once attains the upmost round, he then turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the vase defrees by which he did ascend.
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You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness!
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All is well ended, if the suit be won.
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Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.
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Within the book and volume of thy brain.
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Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.
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Never anger made good guard for itself.
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Can we outrun the heavens?
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Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school.
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Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea.
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To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
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