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Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
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
Heart
Tempest
Hast
Slept
Awake
Thou
Dear
Wells
Well
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Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things. [Act 5, Scene 2]
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Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
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Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favor, dream as I have done Wake, and find nothing.
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And do so, love, yet when they have devised What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend, Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathized In true plain words by thy true-telling friend And their gross painting might be better used Where cheeks need blood in thee it is abused.
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Be advised Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er, In seeming to augment it wastes it?
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The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.
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O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
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'Tis the soldier's life to have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
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The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company.
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They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
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O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
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See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
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Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honor for an inward toil And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares.
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Well, God's above all and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
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Take pains. Be perfect.
William Shakespeare
I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.
William Shakespeare
