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I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood.

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
Gratitude
Babbling
Whose
Ingratitude
Blood
Drunkenness
Lying
Frail
Hate
Memorable
Strong
Vice
Men
Corruption
Inhabits
Vices
Taint

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How strange or odd some'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on.
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To offend and judge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
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If there be devils, would I were a devil, To live and burn in everlasting fire, So I might have your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue!
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Greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
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Do not plunge thyself too far in anger.
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The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst, 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
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Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.
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For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye're so slight.
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An envious fever of pale and bloodless emulation.
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O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
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Silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
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Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough.
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Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
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