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Under loves heavy burden do I sink. --Romeo

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
Sink
Burden
Heavy
Loves
Romeo

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The sudden hand of Death close up mine eye!
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Two starving men cannot be twice as hungry as one but two rascals can be ten times as vicious as one.
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A good heart 'is worth gold.
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ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.
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Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But, in the less foul profanation.
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Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds Do sorely ruffle for many miles about There's scarce a bush.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
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He was not so much brain as earwax
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If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
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Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No to be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.
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And I will make it felony to drink small beer.
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On your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep As is the difference betwixt day and night The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the east.
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I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.
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A turn or two I'll walk To still my beating mind.
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[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
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Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
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What is more miserable than discontent?
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Commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways.
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You are strangely troublesome.
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