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Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal.
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
Looks
Must
Bridal
Men
Fits
Think
Gods
Thinking
Fit
Marriage
Women
Look
More quotes by William Shakespeare
We will meet and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously.
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There is not one wise man in twenty that will praise himself.
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Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
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I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
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By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.
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The evil that men do lives after them the good is oft interred with their bones.
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The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
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The icy precepts of respect.
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My heart is ever at your service.
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In law, what plea so tainted and corrupts, but being seasoned with a gracious voice obscures the show of evil.
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I humbly do beseech of your pardon, For too much loving you
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Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
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I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
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Well-apparel'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads.
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My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
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O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.
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Every why hath a wherefore.
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Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, And say there is no sin but to be rich And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary
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Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form
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Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.
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