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In springtime, the only pretty ring time Birds sing, hey ding A-ding, a-ding Sweet lovers love the spring—
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
Sweet
Ring
Pretty
Hey
Time
Birds
Love
Rings
Lovers
Sing
Bird
Ding
Spring
Springtime
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Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.
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Every fair from fair sometime declines
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Give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.
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Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality.
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It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou
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Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them. They see, and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have.
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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Celebrity is never more admired than by the negligent.
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But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
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Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.
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Art made tongue-tied by authority.
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Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
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He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.
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So loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven, Visit her face' too roughly.
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He makes a July's day short as December.
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For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
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It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
William Shakespeare
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.
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Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.
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Though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy.
William Shakespeare
