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Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.
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
Inordinate
Ingredient
Ingredients
Cups
Devil
Every
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If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottage princes' palaces.
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And what’s he then that says I play the villain?
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There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind
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An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.
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I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
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Never shame to hear what you have nobly done
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When the sea was calm all ships alike showed mastership in floating.
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Love will not be spurred to what it loathes
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What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
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Muster your wits stand in your own defence.
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O, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.
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We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.
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A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool! a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
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Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, Be absent hence!
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The trust I have is in mine innocence, and therefore am I bold and resolute.
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She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared
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Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?
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There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't
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What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
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That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure.
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