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So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.
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
Friends
Night
Midsummer
Hands
Amends
Give
Robins
Giving
Robin
Good
Restore
Unto
Shall
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One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
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Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse.
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Frailty, thy name is woman!
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Do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation.
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Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, for then it hath no end.
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Friendship is full of dregs.
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Murder most foul, as in the best it it But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
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Women may fail when there is no strength in man
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Can one desire too much of a good thing?
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The thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility yet am I inland bred And know some nurture.
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Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue.
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Give me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all unkindness.
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Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
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I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
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I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked.
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Proper deformity shows not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
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Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.
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This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.
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Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, bear t that th' opposed may beware of thee.
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And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.
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