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Come, Lady, die to live.
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
Lady
Dies
Live
Come
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I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
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My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
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For she had eyes and chose me.
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Ingratitude is monstrous and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude of which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.
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Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek.
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...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage.
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My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.
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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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There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
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. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.
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What e'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time.
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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An overflow of good converts to bad.
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Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
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Love reasons without reason.
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Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.
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Macduff: What three things does drink especially provoke? Porter: Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine.
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Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful Mine ears, that heard her flattery nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.
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A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in.
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