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So. Lie there, my art.

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
Lying
Art

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Too much to know is to know naught but fame.
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For I am fresh of spirit, and resolved To meet all perils very constantly.
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Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love
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A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
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I dote on his very absence.
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I'll read enough When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
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Every offense is not a hate at first.
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I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
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Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
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Pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
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By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.
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Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation
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... And death unloads thee.
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I have seen better faces in my time Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant.
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I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys, That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander, Go antickly, and show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst And this is all.
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