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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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
Thus
Private
Darkness
Thoughts
Listen
Night
Counsel
Art
Hide
Men
Thou
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And yet,to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.
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Love is too young to know what conscience is.
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The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
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Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
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Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
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Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.
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If I lose my honor, I lose myself: better I were not yours Than yours so branchless.
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The Eyes are the window to your soul
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Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards.
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A light wife doth make a heavy husband.
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Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.
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I have heard of your paintings too, well enough God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't it hath made me mad.
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There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase you vile standing-tuck!
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But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise
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I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
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Thou frothy tickle-brained hedge-pig!
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Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties
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No legacy is so rich as honesty.
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