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Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

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
Proof
Thou
Swords
Lies
Enmity
Sweet
Juliet
Lying
Thine
Eye
Peril
Look
Twenty
Looks
Twenties

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Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.
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Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care.
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Where hateful Death put on his ugliest mask.
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Make use of time, let not advantage slip Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime Rot and consume themselves in little time.
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Much rain wears the marble.
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Man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assur d, glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep.
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Those, that with haste will make a mighty fire, Begin it with weak straws.
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The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
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If the boy have not a woman's gift To rain a shower of commanded tears, An onion will do well for such a shift.
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Holy, fair, and wise is she The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.
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Take it in what sense thou wilt.
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The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
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One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
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Be like you thought our love would last too long, if it were chain'd together
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A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting The perfume and suppliance of a minute No more.
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This day's black fate on more days doth depend This but begins the woe, others must end.
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