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A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
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
Blasphemous
Pox
Tempest
Throat
Dog
Bawling
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O, call back yesterday, bid time return
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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
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Nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will.
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Loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
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Patch up thine old body for heaven.
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Have you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.
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For I am nothing if not critical.
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Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.
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The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.
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Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions.
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Wish chastely, and love dearly.
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Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary And pitch our evils there?
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A man can die but once.
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Faith, stay here this night they will surely do us no harm you saw they speak us fair, give us gold methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch.
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You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.
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So. Lie there, my art.
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Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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Yes, faith it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say 'Father, as it please me.
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