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Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.
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
Look
Fell
Looks
Bright
Must
Angel
Things
Wear
Would
Grace
Brightest
Though
Brows
Stills
Foul
Still
Angels
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Ay me! sad hours seem long.
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My wits begin to turn.
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Civil dissension is a viperous worm That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.
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Conscience doth make cowards of us all.
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Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.
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Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.
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Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
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Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I every man to his business.
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Do all men kill the things they do not love ............ The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest It blesseth him that gives and him that takes
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Love denied blights the soul we owe to God.
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I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
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Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
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Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever
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To some kind of men their graces serve them but as enemies.
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg.
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Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but backrout quite the wits.
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