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She is a woman, therefore to be won.
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
Woman
Therefore
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All difficulties are easy when they are known.
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What soilders whey-face? The English for so please you. Take thy face hence.
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Lechery, lechery still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.
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It is not night when I do see your face.
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If you be King, why should not I succeed?
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O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell
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The curse of marriage That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites!
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Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace. Leave gormandizing.
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O, Thou hast damnable iteration and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint.
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In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
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Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
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Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly a flower that dies when it begins to bud a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
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I pray thee cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve.
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My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
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Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition
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But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
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I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!
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For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog.
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If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.
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Much rain wears the marble.
William Shakespeare
