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Assure thee, if I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it to the last article. --Othello, Act III, Scene iii
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
Articles
Perform
Thee
Friendship
Scene
Othello
Lasts
Vow
Last
Assure
Article
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You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised.
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O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!
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The very instant I saw you, did My heart fly to your service there resides To make me slave to it. ...mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want.
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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again.
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Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
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Muster your wits stand in your own defence.
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For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
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Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast...
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There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
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He must needs go that the devil drives.
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Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness!
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ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.
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Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind, Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear To stop the air would hurt them.
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All furnished, all in arms All plum'd like estridges that with the wind Bated like eagles having lately bathed Glittering in golden coats like images As full of spirit as the month of May And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
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