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Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .
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
Sick
Envious
Kill
Pale
Moon
Arise
Already
Fairs
Art
Fair
Thou
Maid
Grief
Juliet
Sun
Maids
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No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger.
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I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
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You are an alchemist make gold of that.
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Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
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He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
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So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.
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Can I go forward when my heart is here?
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Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: to fear the worst oft cures the worse.
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Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.
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You are yoked with a lamb, That carries anger as the flint bears fire Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spank, And straight is cold again.
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O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
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I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys, That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave, and slander, Go antickly, and show outward hideousness, And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst And this is all.
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He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.
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Mine honor is my life, both grow in one. Take honor from me, and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try In that I live, and for that I will die.
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Good counselors lack no clients.
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Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.
William Shakespeare
Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves.
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Why, thou deboshed fish thou...Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster?
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Too nice, and yet too true!
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I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
William Shakespeare