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Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.
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
Sire
Motion
Legs
Taste
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I am not prone to weeping as our sex commonly are the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities but I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.
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I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.
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The teeming Autumn big with rich increase, bearing the wanton burden of the prime like widowed wombs after their lords decease.
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Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest terms for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy: sayest thou that house is dark?
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No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger.
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When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony.
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Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
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I'll note you in my book of memory.
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By God, I cannot flatter, I do defy The tongues of soothers! but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word approve me, lord.
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A tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke, That it intends to do.
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My desolation does begin to make A better life.
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Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.
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We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
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Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
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There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history, fully unfold.
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Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
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