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If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
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
Blow
Gave
Tell
Parchment
Would
Handwriting
Think
Ink
Thinking
Blows
Skin
Skins
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There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps and not ever sad then for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.
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I was a coward on instinct.
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Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.
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Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
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Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men?
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I had as lief have been myself alone.
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What e'er thou art, act well thy part.
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Come give us a taste of your quality.
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But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom, More honored in the breach than the observance.
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He that is truly dedicated to war hath no self-love
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A hit, a very palpable hit.
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Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud.
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Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.
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My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
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