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Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears.
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
Poor
Water
Adieu
Much
Ophelia
Forbid
Hast
Thou
Tears
Therefore
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Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?
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They are but beggars that can count their worth.
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May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves.
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I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
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Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.
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The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.
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To beguile the time, look like the time.
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Hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
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Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom it fills one full of obstacles.
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Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
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Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me--'banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
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I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both.
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I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.
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One pain is lessened by another's anguish.
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Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well
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The sense of death is most in apprehension.
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It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
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I...Kisss the tender inward of thy hand.
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Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.
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