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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
Would
Grace
Brightest
Though
Brows
Stills
Foul
Still
Angels
Look
Fell
Looks
Bright
Must
Angel
Things
Wear
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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the fire seven times tried this seven times tried that judgement is that did never choose amiss some there be that shadows kiss such have but a shadows bliss, there be fool alive, i wis silverd o'er, and so was this Take what wife you will to bed I will ever be your head. So be gone you are sped.
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Wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, but presently prevent the ways to wail.
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To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
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The Devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.
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Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.
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We must every one be a man of his own fancy.
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Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden.
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The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase The dove pursues the griffin the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
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Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
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Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
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Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.
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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle I am no traitor's uncle, and that word grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane.
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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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O, reason not the need!
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Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.
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O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)
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