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So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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
Spilt
Fearing
Spills
Jealousy
Jealous
Memorable
Guilt
Full
Artless
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A man can die but once.
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Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.
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I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
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And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
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Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?
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By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
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Proper deformity shows not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
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He is winding the watch of his wit by and by it will strike.
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For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
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Graze on my lips and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds.
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In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
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There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achieved by others' death.
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O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
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Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.
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The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.
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There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous men.
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But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly.
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