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Give sorrow words the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.
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
Give
Sadness
Giving
Grief
Heart
Sorrow
Knits
Loss
Bids
Break
Bereavement
Words
Wrought
Speak
Mourning
Doe
Grieving
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You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes still am I King of those.
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Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land the great ones eat up the little ones.
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I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme. . .
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Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth
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Our very eyes Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind.
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The pleasing punishment that women bear.
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The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.
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To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, And so your follies fight against yourself. Fear, and be slain--so worse can come to fight And fight and die is death destroying death, Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
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Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse.
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Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.
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She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.
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woah is me to have seen what i seen see what i see
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it is not enough to speak, but to speak truee
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When you depart from me sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.
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If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
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Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face! I had rather lie in the woolen.
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I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world.
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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?
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No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
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I doubt not then but innocence shall makeFalse accusation blush, and tyrannyTremble at patience.
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