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My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.
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
Kings
Called
Happiness
Happy
Enjoy
Crown
Crowns
Seldom
Content
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There is a tide in the affairs of men
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Which can say more than this rich praise, that you alone are you?
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There is nothing serious in Mortality
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And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
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Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, Yet hold I off.
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Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.
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Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
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And to be merry best becomes you for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.
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Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough.
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Nor age so eat up my invention.
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Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
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Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
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What? do I love her, that I desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes
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[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.
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He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.
William Shakespeare
Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden.
William Shakespeare
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun it shines everywhere.
William Shakespeare
Tis in ourselves that we are thus, or thus.
William Shakespeare
Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite, Encompassed with thy lustful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
William Shakespeare
Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canter dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
William Shakespeare
