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Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
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
Giving
Trespass
Sweetly
Urged
Juliet
Lips
Sin
Give
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Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
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I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously the very ice of chastity is in them.
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I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered.
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The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
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We do not keep the outward form of order, where there is deep disorder in the mind.
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They that stand high have many blasts to shake them.
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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
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The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.
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Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
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Do not give dalliance too much rein the strongest oaths are straw to the fire in the blood.
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The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
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If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
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A stirring dwarf we do allowance give Before a sleeping giant.
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Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.
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His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.
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