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Where the greater malady is fixed, The lesser is scarce felt.
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
Malady
Lesser
Scarce
Fixed
Greater
Suffering
Felt
More quotes by William Shakespeare
All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.
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Every man has business and desire, Such as it is.
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I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting
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Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.
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My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
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I have lov'd her ever since I saw her and still I see her beautiful
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Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts.
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Are there no stones in heaven But what serves for thunder?
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Come give us a taste of your quality.
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My friends were poor, but honest, so's my love.
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Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
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Alas, our frailty is the cause , not we! For, such as we are made of, such we be.
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The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd
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I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service.
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He is well paid that is well satisfied.
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Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
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But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
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By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.
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Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
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Farewell, my sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well.
William Shakespeare
