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I hold my peace, sir? no No, I will speak as liberal as the north Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

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
Men
North
Shame
Cry
Devil
Hold
Heaven
Peace
Devils
Speak
Liberal

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He that is thy friend indeed, He will help thee in thy need: If thou sorrow, he will weep If thou wake, he cannot sleep: Thus of every grief in heart He with thee does bear a part. These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe.
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Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
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The poorest service is repaid with thanks.
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Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.
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They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.
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It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding Sweet lovers love the spring.
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Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable.(attributed to)
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Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
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Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
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But love is blind and lovers cannot see
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O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
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Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
William Shakespeare
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But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
William Shakespeare
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I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
William Shakespeare
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Pray, do not mock me. I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
William Shakespeare
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Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
William Shakespeare
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
William Shakespeare
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Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal.
William Shakespeare
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In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.
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Some men never seem to grow old. Always active in thought, always ready to adopt new ideas, they are never chargeable with foggyism. Satisfied, yet ever dissatisfied, settled, yet ever unsettled, they always enjoy the best of what is, are the first to find the best of what will be.
William Shakespeare