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Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!
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
Ill
Soul
Divining
Juliet
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And nature must obey necessity.
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Tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
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Like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.
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A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish.
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Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion
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Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
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Good fortune then! To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
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There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind
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They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.
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For youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables, and his weeds Importing health and graveness.
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O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.
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Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.
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Love moderately. Long love doth so. Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. *Love each other in moderation. That is the key to long-lasting love. Too fast is as bad as too slow.*
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
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I myself am best When least in company.
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Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
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Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
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