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Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
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
Lies
Joints
Blood
Settled
Lying
Separated
Upon
Sweetest
Death
Lips
Long
Field
Untimely
Life
Flower
Stiff
Like
Fields
Frost
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Lend less than you owe.
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So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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The play's the thing.
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There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
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He that keeps not crust nor crum Weary of all, shall want some.
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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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Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
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Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts To courtship and such fair ostents of love As shall conveniently become you there.
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A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
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Rest you fair, good signior Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
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An overflow of good converts to bad.
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Nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.
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Sometimes we are devils to ourselves When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.
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He's of the colour of the nutmeg. And of the heat of the ginger.... he is pure air and fire and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.
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Contention, like a horse, Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.
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Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
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Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
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We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.
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When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.
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