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For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all
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
Dearly
Caesar
Gods
Judge
Angel
Judging
Cutting
Loved
Brutus
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But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
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You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
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That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty.
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Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
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For precious friends hid in death's dateless night.
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It is the disease of not listening...... that I am troubled with.
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That we would do We should do when we would, for this 'would' changes, And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents, And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing.
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More can I bear than you dare execute.
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A light heart lives long.
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My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind So flew'd, so sanded their heads are hung with ears that sweep away the morning dew.
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Though inclination be as sharp as will, My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect.
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He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
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What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
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The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
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Men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.
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Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
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Welcome ever smiles, and farewell goes out sighing.
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The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
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Things at the worst will cease or else climb upward To what they were before.
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Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.
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