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O, beware, my lord, of jealousy It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

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
Monsters
Mockery
Meat
Feeds
Envy
Mock
Tragedy
Beware
Green
Doth
Lord
Monster
Jealousy
Jealous
Envied

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To business that we love we rise betime, and go to't with delight.
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Why should we rise because 'tis light? Did we lie down because t'was night?
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You speak like a green girl / unsifted in such perilous circumstances.
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A blind man can't forget the eyesight he lost, show me any beautiful girl. How can her beauty not remind me of the one whose beauty surpasses hers?
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Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honor for an inward toil And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares.
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Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
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I am the Prince of Wales and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
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My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation that away Men are but gilded loan or painted clay... Mine honor is my life both grow in one Take honor from me, and my life is done.
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O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
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Blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please.
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I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature.
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I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
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God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.
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When a father gives to his son, both laugh when a son gives to his father, both cry.
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His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate his tears pure messengers sent from his heart his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth
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