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By my soul I swear, there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me.

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
Power
Soul
Men
Alter
Swear
Tongue

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He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
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I would with such perfection govern, sir, T'excel the golden age.
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Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.
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I am thy father's spirit Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away.
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Doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born.
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O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
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Let not the world see fear and sad distrust govern the motion of a kingly eye.
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Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
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O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman? Is there more?
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If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example mayst thou be denied.
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Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.
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This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.
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Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly.
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Henceforth, I'll bear Affliction till it do cry out itself, 'Enough, enough, and die.
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A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
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What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
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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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Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.
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Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
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