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I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

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
Upon
Desdemona
Way
Kissed
Kiss
Killed
Kissing
Thee
Killing
Dies

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the time of life is short To spend that shortness basely were too long.
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Love is merely a madness.
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'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible true, that thou art beauteous truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal.
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Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to th's first.
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Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.
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Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity.
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Come give us a taste of your quality.
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GLOUCESTER: Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But God be thanked. . . .
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Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first: anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you: be to yourself As you would to your friend.
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I prithee gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passions, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace.
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Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.
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See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!
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I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
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O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect The thoughts of others!
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Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wondered at, and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast.
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His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend. His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.
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I can express no kinder sign of love, than this kind kiss.
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All furnished, all in arms All plum'd like estridges that with the wind Bated like eagles having lately bathed Glittering in golden coats like images As full of spirit as the month of May And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
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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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Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words since I first called my brother's father dad.
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