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I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.
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
Polonius
Brevity
Brief
Mad
Noble
Son
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Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
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Sin will pluck on sin.
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Appetite, a universal wolf.
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Beware the ides of March.
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Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
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So may the outward shows be least themselves The world is still deceived with ornament.
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So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
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The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
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I myself am best When least in company.
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Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
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A noble shalt thou have, and present pay And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
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Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
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Our holy lives must win a new world's crown.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath.
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Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
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To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master And cried, 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm.
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A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.
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Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven.
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I do not set my life at a pin's fee, And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
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