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Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.

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
Scene
Pageant
Alone
Wherein
Play
Presents
Unhappy
Theatre
Thou
Wide
Pageants
Universal
Woeful

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O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
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A man I am cross'd with adversity.
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Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?
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I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
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A plague on both your houses.
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If they love they know not why, they hate upon no better ground, they hate upon no better a ground
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For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.
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Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
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Stars hide your fires let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see
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The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
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Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.
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Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might. Whoever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight.
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...an old man is twice a child.
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And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night.
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A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
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